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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020963">Pearls and A Gilded Cage - Gotham Memoirs Retelling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoebeWulf/pseuds/PhoebeWulf'>PhoebeWulf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dress Up! Time Princess (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bad ass women, Drama, F/M, Kisses, Melodrama, Multi, Romance, The backstory and main story we deserved, long boi, mafia, redux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:02:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020963</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoebeWulf/pseuds/PhoebeWulf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth Colvin is a 23 year old intern reporter in New York City. She uncovers secrets hidden in plain sight, corruption, and answers to her own mysteries that have been plaguing her for years. </p><p>A retelling of the Gotham Memoirs story in Dress Up! Time Princess by IGG.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Colvin/Vittorio Puzo, Vittorio Puzo/Main Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chewed up, Spat Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just wanted to give a huge shout out to RoselessThorn and Hypatian for really inspiring me to sit down and write this finally. I haven't written a fic IN YEARS. But their beautiful works, and the worlds they built really motivated me to research and get super immersed into the world I wanted to create. So there are some major changes in MC's background, and I wanted to focus mainly on her story as she is a bad bitch, and deserves more sass in the actual game js.</p><p>That being said! RoselessThorn's fic is set in the 1930s as it matches up historically better with some major events, and since the game is super vague, I wanted to follow their footsteps and it makes a lot more sense to me. So please bare that in mind that it's mid 1930s it's set in!</p><p>Gotham Memoirs is not my intellectual property, rights fully belong to IGG. </p><p>This is just my extensive exploration into what I wish it could be! (Also please forgive any British-isms as it's set in America and my geography is WHACK so please go easy on me!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re<em> fired</em>, Elizabeth.”</p><p> </p><p>I stood there, stunned and winded. It didn’t feel real. It took me a second to process the words that came from the Editor-In-Chief. The room began to spin, as I looked at the faces of strangers giggle and gasp, the tinkle of champagne glasses filling my ears.</p><p> </p><p>“What? What do you-” I managed to stammer out, trying to regain my composure.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re out Elizabeth, you’re finished.”</p><p> </p><p>“Martin, I-” I attempted to grab his arm to stop him from walking away. The Chief’s eyes turned icy as he glares at me for intercepting his flight.</p><p> </p><p>“Save your breath, and don’t embarrass us any further. You can go collect your things from the office tomorrow.” He pulls my clenched fist off of his suit jacket, pats himself down and storms into the crowd of amused onlookers.</p><p>Somehow one of my biggest achievements as an intern reporter, had transformed into such a nebulous mess within hours. I thought I had written the article of my career, exposing the infamous Metropolitan Hospital and the tragedies that existed within their walls. Martin, the Editor-in-Chief of The Sun News, had finally given me the recognition I had been trying for months to earn from him. I had risked it all for this one story, sneaking into the hospital, masquerading as a nurse, running into patients and inevitably having to escape as soon as my cover was blown. </p><p>I tumbled out of the theatre, where I’d been invited to celebrate my front page expose on Metropolitan Hospital with other important people of the city, and I choked back my sobs.</p><p>“I need to get home.” I muttered to myself reassuringly. It was late, but in New York City, there should have been significantly more people than there were at this time. I shrugged it off, eager to get as far away from my failures as possible and started walking briskly towards my apartment block.</p><p>My thoughts went straight to my grandparents. They’d warned me about pursuing being a reporter, and they were so eager to have me come back home. How was I going to break it to them that I lost my one shot at making it in the city? The dread began to well up inside me, and my stomach dropped at the prospect of going home to the farm.</p><p>I shivered and snuggled into my shawl for warmth. Although it was coming into spring, I felt a chill that clung to me. I spun my head around quickly, to see a figure pacing behind me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and tried to shake off the paranoia that ate away at me. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m just on edge from tonight. It’s nothing.” I muttered to myself. I turned a corner, sure that the figure behind me wouldn’t be coincidentally walking the same route. Who could it be at this hour? Am I about to get jumped? Just my luck.</p><p>Despite quickening my pace, the footsteps draw closer,  and I grow increasingly uneasy. In the not so far distance, what sounds like a gunshot  goes off further down the street. Even as I thought I had made good time getting away, the figure started to close the distance between us. Almost tripping up due to the celebratory new heels I’d bought, I felt my legs beginning to wobble as the footsteps behind me got louder and louder.</p><p>I looked about me to see a small alleyway that I could try and hide in, and hope that whoever it was would just pass on by without a second thought. Or I could keep going. Although I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to outrun them. Seeing as I’d only been living in New York City for a year, I still wasn’t so good with directions, and I didn’t want to end up helplessly lost whilst being stalked. I gathered my courage and pressed on, biting my lip, eyes burning with tears, trying to steel myself and appear unscathed. As I got to the end of the street, I saw a figure in the distance on the other side of the road, leaning against a wall and lighting a cigarette. I began to sprint towards them, my voice getting caught in my throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Um! Excuse me, could you please help me?! I’m being followed!” It took me a second to register who was the recipient of my panic. Although he was leaning, he stood tall, his broad shoulders dressed in a crisp black coat. His face was chiseled, his brow furrowed deep in thought. His deep hazel eyes bore into me, with what I read as intrigue, and slightly bemused.</p><p>Before I could plead my case, the corners of his mouth twist into a semi smirk and he took my purse from me. I panic internally that he was in cahoots with whoever was following me, but he reaches for my shawl and wraps it around my shoulders. He puts an arm around me, and begins to walk with me down the street lamp lit path.</p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat. “I was waiting for you to be finished, my dear. I wouldn’t leave you alone.” </p><p> </p><p>I looked up at him in relief, and decided to play along with his cover.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I know, I couldn’t find you so I got scared!” I trembled, half jokingly, half serious.</p><p> </p><p>“Well I’m here now, it’s all okay.” He rubbed my shoulder reassuringly to really sell the story to whoever was watching. We reached a black Ford Sedan and he opened the passenger side for me. </p><p> </p><p>“Get in.” His sudden change in tone shook me a little, and I hesitated. My eyes darted from him to the inside of the car. Was I really safe getting into a car with a complete stranger in the middle of the night? </p><p>Noticing my hesitation, he lowers his voice and says “Aren’t your feet tired, <em>Nurse</em>?”</p><p>Nurse? Where did I hear that before? I rack my brain and remember running into him and his sister at Metropolitan Hospital. His sister was admitted there it appeared, and she poured her heart out to me, fear cascading out of her. I tried to stay undercover, but I wanted to reassure her that my article on the hospital would help her get out.</p><p>So much for that.</p><p>As recollection of our meeting thawed my fear, I nod and step into his car. I exhale, my body decompressing on the leather seats, relieved to be safe. As he drove, I gazed out of the window, watching the lights of the city become blotches as my eyes lost focus, and I began to descend into my thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>“Where do you live?” His sudden question jolts me out of my reverie.</p><p> </p><p>“You can drop me off at the park near Wilson Avenue, in Queens.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not safe for a young lady to be wandering the streets alone at night. Do you want to be the subject of tomorrow’s headlines?” Although he had a smirk on his face, I could tell he was serious.</p><p> </p><p>“The park is literally round the corner from my place, I’ll be okay from there.” I reply defensively.</p><p> </p><p>“Suit yourself.” He ends our conversation and the rest of the journey home is draped in silence, and utter exhaustion from the night’s events. We pull up by the park, and I jump out of the car. I poke my head through the window and extend my hand to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much for the ride. I’m Elizabeth Colvin. It was a pleasure meeting you.” I say cheerfully. He shakes my hand firmly.</p><p> </p><p>“Vittorio Puzo. Well met.” He pauses, and looks at me for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>“Now you’re safe, go home. I’m leaving.” Mr Puzo begins to reverse his car, eager to remove himself from the situation. Unsure if he realised my gratitude, I called out to him</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you once again! I wouldn’t have escaped that mugger if not for you!”</p><p> </p><p>“That wasn’t a mugger, Miss Nurse.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Then who was it?”</p><p> </p><p>He then drives off without answering my question.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>*********</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The next day, my fears of having to leave New York began to tug at me further. I spent the day traipsing around looking for any work at other newspaper firms, but it was to no avail. I felt myself unravelling, unable to untangle myself from the mess I’d made. On top of everything else, my landlady had hounded me in the morning for my rent, and I felt close to snapping-</p><p> </p><p>Then she mentioned my grandparents. They had called.</p><p> </p><p>I made my way downstairs to the reception, inhaled deeply and then held the ear piece a fair distance away.</p><p> </p><p>“Liezel! <em>Ay nako</em>! How are you? Are you eating? My anak! Me and your lolo have been worried about you!” My grandmother bellowed down the phone, frantic.</p><p> </p><p>“Lola, I’m okay, I’m okay. How are you guys doing?” I laughed nervously, praying she didn’t pry too much.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah everything is fine darling. How are you doing for cash? Do you need money for food?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine honestly. I’m more worried about you with how taxes are looking at the moment. So don’t worry about me okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Liezel…” She trailed off. </p><p> </p><p>Not wanting to disappoint her or burden her with my problems, I interjected cheerfully.</p><p> </p><p>“Lola, I promise I’ll come by soon. I honestly do really miss your cooking compared to what they serve here in the city! As soon as I find some time, I’ll be there.”</p><p> </p><p>I hear some shuffling and back and forth between my grandparents, then I hear my grandfather take the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“Liezel, your papa would be proud of you for what you’re doing. But don’t get in too deep, if you’re in trouble, just call us okay? We’ll be here. And also don’t listen to your lola, she worries too much. You’re made of tougher stuff than you think.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lolo, I miss you. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, scram. Ah-! Wait, also could you bring me some of those soft pretzels next time-”</p><p> </p><p>My grandmother takes the phone back, shouting I love you’s and kisses down the receiver, and I feel a tiny flame light up in me again. I didn’t want to have to go back to the farm and explain, or weigh down my grandparents. They had been through enough as it was, and I wanted to desperately make them proud. I’d spent my teenage years getting into trouble, and causing them no end of stress, so I wanted to prove to them that I could do this alone. I wanted to take care of them, as they did for me all these years. </p><p> </p><p>My motivation swelled inside me. Even if I couldn’t get a job at a reputable newspaper, New York was littered with them. There must be something out there for me.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*********</p><p> </p><p>With my new found hope, I pushed myself to venture into 25th street in the hopes of getting literally any job in the field. After cycling through offices of countless obscure publications, I found myself standing in front of an archaic building. It stood out like a sore thumb next to the soaring skyscrapers and high rises. </p><p> </p><p>Gotham Times.</p><p> </p><p>Before I even step into the building, a man approaches me, beaming and confident. </p><p> </p><p>“May I assist you, lovely lady?” His eyes light up with excitement, as he ruffled his mousey brown hair and fiddles with his bowtie.</p><p> </p><p>“Nice to meet you. Is this the Gotham Times?” I reply, in my most formal yet desperate please-hire-me voice.</p><p> </p><p>We continue with the pleasantries, and the gentleman, who introduced himself as Edmund, leads me to the office of Mr Kane, Editor-In-Chief. Although apprehension gripped me, I shook off my fear and stepped into his office. Mr Kane was a tall, slender man, with a killer moustache and piercing eyes to match. But to my surprise, his demeanor was nowhere near as intimidating as he appeared. He heard me out whilst I pitched being a reporter for Gotham Times, nodding and taking drags of his cigar intermittently. Whilst pondering a short while he came up with: </p><p> </p><p>“There’s not much I can help you with, but I can provide you with a chance to show your talent.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that, I found myself hired at Gotham Times, with a million things to prove, and a fire in my belly. New York hadn’t seen the last of me yet.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:</p><p>Liezel - This is a Tagalog variant of the English name Elizabeth,</p><p>Ay nako! - an expression of distress or annoyance</p><p>Lolo/Lola - grandpa/grandma</p><p>Anak - baby</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Locked and Loaded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Based on the events of the in-game chapters 1/6 - 2/2.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  <em>SNAP!</em>
</p><p><br/>My camera flashes as I take shots for an upcoming article on Sky Tower, a new development in the city, not something I necessarily wanted to report on. But due to Mr Kane’s insistence on getting something out there, it was my first assignment and I was determined to make something out of it.</p><p>Surveying the construction site, swaths of gruff looking builders were present. They hauled, guffawed, laughed unnecessarily loud, and seemed to skulk about the site like scavengers. I had decided to dress down knowing I was coming to such a testosterone filled environment, but even still I felt a film of sweat coat me. I was dreading any interaction, and prayed that my loose clothes would not attract any unwarranted attention. I fixed my glasses nervously, took a deep breath and began to stride, mock confidently, through the construction site. Despite trying to appear unfazed, my eyes were looking down at the floor. As I neared the offices of whom I was to interview, it had begun.</p><p>“Ey boys, look at this one.” One of them chirped..<br/>“Leaving it all to the imagination, I like shy ones.”<br/>“Oi Johnny, lay off. You know she’s my type.” Their voices began to rise to a shout.<br/>“Excuse me? Miss? Over here!”<br/>“Hey! We’re talking to you.” </p><p>I clenched my fists and kept my eyes shut, trying to block out the incessant cat calls from the builders behind me, and hadn’t noticed the person exiting the building at the same time.</p><p>“Hey, watch where you’re walking Miss!” Just as I was about to collide into them, they held me at my shoulders and looked down at me, slightly flustered. </p><p>I blushed, and jumped back embarrassed. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I’m looking for Mr Ricci, I’m from Gotham Times.” I manage to stumble out in a rush. </p><p>The man stands back and looks at me up and down, rubbing his chin. Although he was taller than me, not by much, perhaps a few inches. I wasn’t sure if his shoulders were as broad as they looked as his jacket made his frame look significantly bigger than the rest of him. His frame beneath looked more slight, and sinewy, but he was dressed immaculately. Stubble framed the lower half of his face, and his green eyes were fox like. As I took his image in, he grinned a toothy smile at me, which lit up his face.</p><p>“That’s me! Well, I didn’t expect a female reporter. I imagine it was you who got the boys all riled up.” He chuckled to himself.</p><p>“Yes… about that. Could we talk somewhere a little quieter? I’d like to get this interview underway.” I replied coldly. I stared back at him with conviction, not allowing the cat calling to shake me further.</p><p>“Yeah of course, come on into my office Miss- Um Miss?”</p><p>“Elizabeth Colvin.”</p><p>“Right, yeah, Miss Colvin, come through.”</p><p>After entering Mr Ricci’s office, I let my professionalism take center stage, and start our interview promptly. Although, still slightly wound up by the behaviour of the brutes outside, I found myself digging my pen into my notepad a little too intensely. My pen nib snaps and some ink splatters on my shirt. </p><p>Mr Ricci laughed, and offered me his handkerchief and asked me if I needed a pen. His laid back demeanor puts me at ease and I accept.</p><p>“This is one of the bosses’ pens, so you better bring it back you hear? Heard it was pretty expensive.” He teases me and hands me over a heavy black lacquer pen.</p><p>“Oh, okay, thank you Mr Ricci.” I timidly open up the cap to see a gold fountain pen with initials engraved into the nib. </p><p>V.P.</p><p>Before I can examine it more closely, Mr Ricci jumps up to the sound of the door to the office being slammed open. I fling my head around to see a brawny dark haired man, looking vexed and worked up.</p><p>“Nino! Your men are causing too much trouble! Sort it out!”</p><p>“You gotta knock first Alvaro, can’t you see I’m busy here?” Mr Ricci retorts, annoyed.</p><p>“Sorry your highness, but you gotta sort your men out.” The man replies sarcastically.</p><p>“Let me finish this interview up, after that I’m all yours.”</p><p>The intruder, named Alvaro, finally acknowledges my existence. He eyes me up, and I find his gaze settling on the camera on my lap. I fidget nervously under his gaze, and his sour face breaks into a smile.</p><p>“So Miss Reporter, you’re interviewing Nino?” He grins slyly at me.</p><p>“Yes, I’m doing a report on the construction of Sky Tower.” I respond cooly.</p><p>“Hm, what’s the big deal?” He folds his arms, pouting like a spoilt child.</p><p>“I’ve heard that it’s en route to become the tallest building in the district. Sounds like a big deal to me.” </p><p>His ears perk up, and his face begins to get redder. “What?! Tallest building? Lady, you gotta be mistaken, the Vosse tower has that title. You should be interviewing me!” </p><p>“Well not for long Alvaro. With the new roof installation next week, looks like we’re gon’ be casting a shadow over the Vosse Tower.” Nino fiddles with his gloves, and looks off out the construction site, trying to appear unaffected.</p><p>Alvaro looks taken aback, and it takes him a second to process his defeat. Veins in his forehead begin to protrude as he clears his throat.</p><p>“Vosse has actually got some extensions in the works, a clock tower I’ve heard. Sky Tower can try, but we’re always gonna be a step ahead of you Nino.” He stares daggers at Mr Ricci, his eyes crazed and determined.</p><p>Nino turns to me.</p><p>“Miss Colvin, let me take you to the construction site so I can illustrate to you the potential of Sky Tower.” He dusts his coat off, and walks to the door, without his smile leaving his face.</p><p>Packing up my bag, I get up and politely say “That would be excellent. Lead the way.”</p><p>With Alvaro in tow, mumbling angrily to himself behind us, Mr Ricci and I stare up at the ongoing construction. Mr Ricci confirms the plans with a detailed blueprint, looking accomplished and shooting a smirk at Alvaro. Alvaro kicks up some debris with his hands in his pockets, swearing under his breath.</p><p>“Well thank you for talking me through that Mr Ricci. Shall we continue where we left off?”</p><p>“Yeah, let’s do that Miss Colvin.” Mr Ricci tried to escort me towards the office when I heard Alvaro sneer at me.</p><p>“How much did Nino pay you? I’ll pay you double to feature Vosse.”</p><p>Hearing his snide comments I spun around incredulously. Walking over to him, meeting his gaze I utter.</p><p>“Please do not undermine my professional integrity, Mr Alvaro.”</p><p>Alvaro starts to lean over me, snarling at me.</p><p>“Haha, don’t preach to me about work ethics, you reporters are all the same.” He gestures to me “I know what broads like you do to get the scoop.”</p><p>“Well a broad like me has no interest in your flaccid excuse of a building.” Smirking at him, I turned around, saying over my shoulder “Anyway, it’s getting on, I really must write up this report Mr Alvaro. Good day.”</p><p>Alvaro seemed speechless. But then I felt him yank onto my arm as I tried to walk away.</p><p>“Oi! This isn’t over missy, you’re gonna regret this!”</p><p>“Oh really? Is that a threat?” I snarled back.</p><p>I hadn’t noticed Mr Ricci rushing over, due to how close Alvaro had put his face to mine.</p><p>“Back off Alvaro, leave it-”</p><p>Before Mr Ricci could continue, a voice interjected our standoff.</p><p>“Nino, I can forgive the worker dispute but if you can’t even handle a little thing like this?” Their voice sounded exasperated.</p><p>“Boss! You’re here!” Mr Ricci stammered out.</p><p>“Mr P-Puzo!” Alvaro backs off of me, hurriedly letting go of my arm.</p><p>“I’m sorry you got caught up in this Miss Colvin.”<br/>In a daze, my eyes drift up to his. His eyes looked fierce, and I found myself lost in them. I felt relief wash over me yet again from his presence, yet he didn’t seem to recognise me. </p><p>“The roof of the Sky Tower need not be so tall, Nino. We can let the Vosse building be the tallest if that’s what they wish.” His tone is calm and stern, he didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest by this.</p><p>“But, Boss!” Nino pipes up.</p><p>Not paying attention to Mr Ricci’s objection, Mr Puzo continued. “And Alvaro, please keep your workers in check. Or I’ll have to do it for you, on behalf of Mr Juliano.” The corners of his mouth curl up into a smile, and the words were enough to cause Alvaro to retreat.</p><p>I stood there in shock at what I had expected was to be an altercation between Alvarro and I, and once again chaos was diffused by Mr Puzo. I felt a little embarrassed by it, professionally, but also having to have him step in once again.</p><p>“Nino, please escort Miss Colvin off the worksite.” Mr Puzo instructed.</p><p>“Yes, Boss!” Mr Ricci firmly holds my arm, as we walk off of the site, and I turn to look at Mr Puzo, feeling that our conversation was cut short. </p><p>Mr Ricci and I finished up our interview quickly, as he looked eager to get back to Mr Puzo, almost nervous. I thanked him for his time, and headed back to the office to write up the pissing match between Vosse and Sky Tower.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*******</p><p> </p><p>The next week passed without incident, which was a blessing considering everything that had happened to me, and my report on Sky Tower is approved by Mr Kane. I felt like I was finally getting back into the flow of things, and I was actually receiving praise and getting to know my colleagues, which was such a foreign concept back at Sun News. Throwing myself into work felt so rewarding, and much of what happened the week prior felt like a bad dream.</p><p>As I headed back home after another long day at the newspaper, I noticed the door to my room ajar. </p><p>Could it have been the landlady?</p><p>I cautiously pushed the door open to see my room trashed. Countless drawers had been left open, and papers littered the floor.</p><p>“What the-?!” I rushed over, staring about my room for any valuables that had been taken. To my surprise and confusion, the only thing that was missing was my notebook containing my findings from Metropolitan Hospital. I slumped down onto the floor and began to cry in frustration.<br/>“Why is this happening to me?” I choked through my sobs, I couldn’t work out why of all things that was all they took. After searching through the rest of my room, nothing else of importance was taken, and I felt a bittersweet relief. I contemplated calling the police, but realistically what good would they even be? </p><p>
  <em>‘Hi Mr Policeman! My notebook was stolen!’ </em>
</p><p>Fat chance the NYPD would have time to chase around some papers that were probably long gone. I slept with a baseball bat under my bed for the rest of the week and talked to my landlady about installing a new lock on my door.</p><p>********</p><p>“Hey, chin up buttercup! Sometimes things happen for a reason!”</p><p>Annoyed, I took my head out of my hands and looked menacingly at Davis, who was sipping his coffee across from me. The fluorescent lights of the diner made my eyes hurt even more, and Davis’ painful positivity made me slump back onto the counter.</p><p>Mr Kane had given me a thorough talking to regarding me losing my notes for an interview with Charlotte Harris. Losing my notebook cost me a vital step up at the newspaper, and I had been losing sleep over fear of another burglary. While I sat wallowing in my despair, Davis leant over and rubbed my shoulder, trying to comfort me.</p><p>“Elizabeth, don’t fret too much, we’ve got this premiere tonight. Kane said he’d give you another chance. Come on now.” Davis reached for my chin and said “Show me your happy face.” I pulled a toothy, forced smile and stuck my tongue out at him, aggressively grabbing my coffee and slurping audibly.</p><p>Under my breath I finally mustered, “I don’t have a dress though. I spent my last paycheck on getting new locks installed…”</p><p>Davis sighs, and looks at me “Don’t worry I got you covered this time, just owe me a favour m’kay?”</p><p>I pipe up “That’s two favours! You already got me this gig with Daisy Collins tonight and I-”</p><p>“No, that was no problem, you can owe me for the dress.” I sat back resigned, and nodded reluctantly. Davis beamed with excitement and started grabbing his coat and car keys. “Hurry and finish your coffee, we’re off shopping!”</p><p>*******</p><p>Pulling up to the Ornald theatre, I realised how grateful I was to Davis for this opportunity. I hadn’t been at Gotham Times for long, and he was really putting his neck out for me. The dress he bought for me was gorgeous, the gold silk satin fell delicately across my body, and an ivory train made me feel like royalty. Davis told me to enjoy tonight, as much as we were here for work. Somehow I found it easy to put everything behind me for a couple of hours spending time with Davis, he was so carefree and comfortable with everyone there, it was refreshing to be around after everything that had happened.</p><p>After the movie finished, he took me to interview Daisy Collins, who obviously did not value my presence there. Davis and Daisy exchanged some sweet nothings, and Daisy gave me most lacklustre responses to my questions. They shooed me out of her dressing room in no time at all, and I heard the door lock as I stumbled out into the hall. </p><p>Great. Davis was supposed to be my ride home, and as far I knew, he was gonna be all night. I looked down at the shoddy interview notes, and heaved a heavy sigh. At least it was something, I just had to weave it into gold. Or something readable. </p><p>Exhaustion began to set in as my heels had started to make my feet ache. I decided to step out the front for some fresh air.</p><p>Pushing the heavy doors into the chilly night, I hadn’t had a moment to myself when I heard a gunshot and saw people stampeding away from the sound. Feeling shaken, I stepped back inside the theatre, not wanting to be part of the pandemonium. As I turned around to find somewhere safe to wait out the chaos, the theatre was eerily empty. I gathered myself, and determined to find Davis, even if I had to interrupt his late night shenanigans.</p><p>Running up towards the dressing room, I couldn’t remember what door was Daisy’s, although I told myself it was probably the one with the most audible moans coming out of it. As I went towards the next corridor, I ran into a familiar figure.</p><p>“Oh! Mr-” My exclamation was cut short as a leather glove covered my mouth and pulled me close.</p><p>“Shh…” Mr Puzo whispers. I tilted my head to get a better look at him, and I noticed his brow furrowed in concentration, as he listened out for any movement in the hallway. I noticed him grasping a gun in his right hand, loaded and ready to shoot. I felt my heart pounding out of my chest, and my face began to get hot the longer I looked at Mr Puzo. His eyes were steely, and yet he didn’t seem remotely afraid. As I trembled beneath his hold on me, I could smell his cologne masked with the smell of tobacco and gunpowder.</p><p>Not wanting to break his concentration, I gently tugged on his sleeve. He looked at me intensely. My words got stuck in my throat as I struggled to whisper “Come with me, I know where you can hide.” I felt embarrassed offering such a meagre excuse of assistance at a time like this, but he simply nodded at me.</p><p>“Lead the way, Miss Colvin.”</p><p>We edged our way to the projection room. Fortunately we weren't spotted. We piled into the room after one another, and squeezed next to each other. The room was a lot smaller than I had anticipated, but for now it was safe. I felt my cheeks beginning to heat up again, being even closer to Mr Puzo than earlier. </p><p>Trying to find something to ease the tension, I playfully murmured, “It’s funny how we keep running into one another right Mr Puzo? But I was actually here to interview Daisy Collins. The movie wasn’t that good honestly and-” Before I finish awkwardly stringing a sentence together, Mr Puzo puts a gloved finger to my lips.</p><p>“Miss Colvin, this is a critical situation. If you could pause your film review until later, I would appreciate it.” He said bluntly. “I need to pay attention to what’s happening.”<br/>“S-sorry…” I mumbled, mortified at my incompetence to deal with such a stressful situation. </p><p>We waited in painful silence whilst straining to hear any activity outside the projection room. The only thing I could hear was the pounding of my chest, in fear but also at the proximity I was to Mr Puzo. Even though we were in danger, I felt oddly safe against the chest of this man I barely knew.</p><p>After a short while of waiting in the dark, Mr Puzo announced “I’m gonna check outside. Stay put, Miss Colvin.” He shuffled past me to take a peek out of the door. Once he left the room, I felt myself seize up in fear, worried if he’d be okay. After a few minutes, he returned and extended his hand out to me.<br/>“Things seem to have died down, but it’s not safe here. We should go.” I shly placed my trembling hand in his and let him lead me out of the cramped room.</p><p>Following his stride, I began to notice the state of the theatre. Bullet holes were sprayed across the walls. I swallowed nervously, finally realising the severity of the situation. But my interest was piqued, so I instinctively grabbed my notebook and started jotting down the scene.</p><p>Mr Puzo noticed I was lagging behind him, and turned to say to me “I admire your professionalism, Miss Colvin. But your life is in danger. Shouldn’t safety be your priority?”</p><p>Without looking away from my notes I replied “Yes, I understand. Thank you Mr Puzo.”</p><p>His response manages to tear my eyes away from my writing.</p><p>“I should be the one thanking you. You saved my life.” I stared at him, touched but surprised. “I know it’s your job, but you must understand. Some things aren’t meant to be reported.” He took my hand in his again, and said earnestly to me “If you want to keep reporting news, you must first stay alive.” His eyes caught onto the pen I was holding in my hand and he chuckled to himself. Perplexed by his reaction, I took a look at my pen and realised I forgot to return it after my interview at Sky Tower. <br/>“M-Mr Puzo! I’m sorry, I borrowed this and forgot to return it to you and-”</p><p>“Miss Colvin, it’s quite alright. I’m sure it’ll come in useful, so please keep it.”</p><p>“But, it’s so fancy, I wouldn’t want to lose it!”</p><p>“Then don’t.”</p><p>“Okay. I will do my best Mr Puzo.”</p><p>“One more thing.” He rifled through his coat pocket and presented me a business card. “Here’s my card. If you need any help, call me.” I took it from him and admired the luxury of the card in my hands. I pondered why it was necessary to have such an extravagant business card as I traced the embossed name on the front. Vittorio Puzo. My head snapped up as I heard a familiar voice.</p><p>“Boss, the spring cleaning is done.”</p><p>“Good, lets go.”</p><p>“Miss Colvin! Why are you with the boss?” Mr Ricci stares at me confused, looking between Mr Puzo and I.</p><p>I looked down, avoiding his interrogating gaze. “We… we just happened to run into each other.” I faltered.</p><p>His voice turning more serious, Mr Ricci insisted “It’s dangerous. Why don’t you come with us?”</p><p>Whilst contemplating whether or not to go with them, I suddenly remembered Davis.</p><p>“Thank you for the offer, but I’m supposed to be meeting my friend at the front. I don’t want to leave him behind.”</p><p>“Suit yourself, Miss Colvin. We’ll take our leave.” Mr Puzo nods at me. “Stay safe. And remember my promise to you.”</p><p>“Will do, Mr Puzo. Get back safe.” He laughs warmly and walks off with Mr Ricci and a group of immaculately dressed men accompanying them.</p><p> </p><p>********</p><p> </p><p><br/>As soon I left the theatre, Davis hounded me, sounding strangely reminiscent of my grandmother. I shook him off, telling him I found somewhere to hide, and due to his insistence, and partially my paranoia, I let him drive me home. I decided not to pry into his most likely interrupted engagement with Daisy Collins, and remained in my thoughts throughout my journey home.</p><p>Mr Puzo had to be with the Mafia. Why else with the shootouts and the territory wars? And was I actually getting in too deep? My grandfather did tell me to watch out, but I was a reporter. I had to get to the bottom of all the recent conflicts happening in the city. I just had to be careful.</p><p>The following day I puzzled at my desk trying to work out the events that unfolded at the theatre, when I received a call from the new Special Prosecutor Diane Boseman. She interrogated me and asked for testimony on the incident, and I carefully revealed as much information I could without implicating Mr Puzo. Diane Boseman was such a figurehead for women, especially during a time where a woman doing ‘man’s’ jobs was still so controversial, I couldn’t help but feel in awe of her. I was floored when she mentioned meeting to discuss my previous article about Metropolitan Hospital, convinced it was somehow connected to the past week’s occurrences. Not wanting to let the opportunity slip I agreed, and excitedly grabbed Davis to spill the beans over some coffee.</p><p>“Mafia?!” Davis exclaimed, way too loudly.</p><p>“Shhhhh! Jesus Davis, you want all of New York listening in?” I grabbed him by the collar and hissed. </p><p>Unsurprisingly Davis wiggled his eyebrows at the rough-housing. Disgusted, I shoved him back into his seat, and he slumped back disappointedly. After readjusting his bow tie and waistcoat, he looked about the busy diner, mouthing ‘sorry’ to me. I sighed, exasperated by his lively investment in the drama. I took a few sips of coffee, before I continued.</p><p>“So I need to get into Metropolitan Hospital again. I think some more answers lie there.”</p><p>“And I’m coming.” </p><p>“Edmund! This is supposed to be lowkey. I don’t want to be flaunting around expensive cars, whilst walking right into the lion’s den.”</p><p>“Fine. I’ll bring a less flashy car.”</p><p>I grumble, massaging my temples.</p><p>“Look, we can get in, I’ll stay back and let you do all the investigating. I’m just there for back up, and potential bribery. You owe me remember?” A grin returns to his face.</p><p>“Okay, okay, deal.” Wanting to nip this in the bud, I agreed to his terms. Davis had proven to have friends in high places, as well as the financial resources, so it couldn’t hurt to have him tag along.</p><p>“And codenames?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Davis pleaded with me as we left the diner, much to the rest of the customers delight I imagine, offering up potential secret identities we could assume.</p><p>Somehow even as we got into Metropolitan Hospital, we ended up with more questions than answers.</p><p>The hospital was miraculously spotless, cleaned up and looking presentable. I was shocked at the transformation it had undergone, when a month ago it had looked like a dingy, miserable hovel. Nurses buzzed about busily, in stark contrast to the slovenly, indifference I had noticed prior. Patients being escorted about the premises seemed unsettling in their compliance, wearing vacant expressions on their faces. Davis and I were guided to the reception, where we waited to speak with a nurse. I felt my knees shaking uncontrollably due to the extreme makeover of the hospital, unease sat in the pit of my stomach, my gut telling me something was seriously wrong. Davis leant over and clasped my hands, flashing a caring smile. I breathed out, appreciating the support, and turned my sight to the hallway in anticipation.</p><p>The nurse that I had encountered during my last visit, was that last person I wanted to see. She smacked, chewed and popped her bubblegum, as she stopped in her tracks noticing us.</p><p>“Oh, it’s you. That reporter.” She snapped. “You’ve got a lotta nerve coming here after what you did!” Before I could even come back with a retort, Davis took over.</p><p>“We apologise for any trouble we caused such a lovely lady like yourself.” Her face lit up, and she began to fiddle with a loose lock of hair.</p><p>“Trouble? It’s no trouble at all sir. What can I do for you?” She flirted.</p><p>Davis smoothed back his hair and replied “There’s a lot you could do for me Miss.” The nurse giggled and bit her lip.</p><p>“Ahem!” I coughed out. </p><p>“Right, yes. Miss Nurse, we’ve come to check up on Jessica Taylor, could you take us to her?” Davis straightened up.</p><p>“Jessica Taylor died about 20 days ago.” She popped her gum.</p><p>“Jessica Taylor is dead?! How?!” I shouted, furious at the nurse’s blasé demeanor. I got up off my seat and strode over to the nurse, my blood boiling.</p><p>“Health complications, pneumonia.” She snorted curtly, looking at her nails, avoiding eye contact with me.</p><p>“But, she was fine?! How could you let this happen?!” Davis pulled me back, sitting me back down on the waiting room chair, with his arm around me.</p><p>“Sorry Miss Nurse, she’s just struggling to take it all in.” Davis patted my shoulder, but I shrugged him off, fuming. Another dead end. How could this have happened? Boseman was right, there was a lot more to this than I had previously thought.</p><p>“Hmph, I can see that. It ain’t my fault. We’ve all been busy dealing with our new inpatient causing a frenzy, I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.” The nurse lamented, fluttering her lashes at Davis.</p><p>“New inpatient?” My curiosity piqued, I looked inquisitively at the nurse. I noticed Davis perk up, and grab his notebook from his jacket pocket. </p><p>“The Jazz killer. He’s here?” Davis asked.</p><p>“Uh yeah, straight from the Big Easy. Well actually not straight, he’s been in a few institutions before being transferred here. Our state of the art facilities are gonna get this sicko cured.”</p><p>Getting up from his seat, Davis approaches the nurse to get more intel on the situation. He puts her arm in his, winks at me and walks off with the blushing nurse. I sit defeated with my head in my hands, but I shake myself out of it, determined to write down notes on what information I had managed to glean from the negligent hospital staff. </p><p>A short while later Davis returned with a box, his hair ruffled and some love bites on his neck. I roll my eyes at him. Of course. Typical Davis.</p><p>“Come on Colvin, we’ve got some extracurricular reading to do.”</p><p>As I refused to go to his penthouse suite to work, we settled for a private booth at a VIP restaurant. Crystal chandeliers twinkled, and a live band played in the background. The table was adorned with crystal glassware, elaborate table ornaments, and real silverware. Davis looked practically at home here, and I felt that I stuck out like a sore thumb. Countless women giggled and sipped their cocktails with their beaus, covered in diamonds and fur, as I looked down at my attire. My suit jacket and skirt suddenly felt dowdy and unflattering, but I pushed those thoughts to the back of my head.</p><p>“What do you have for me Mr Davis?” I began. Davis grinned at me and handed me over a file. I opened it up to see a sparse report of Jessica Taylor. Davis explained.</p><p>“So Jessica Taylor really did die. They cremated her, and her ashes remain at the hospital. Which is strange seeing as someone came to pick up her belongings?”</p><p>“What?” I stared at him, pausing my perusal at the document.</p><p>“Yeah, some guy went under the guise of Taylor.” Davis sipped his martini. “But he forgot to pick up this.” Davis handed me a plush piglet toy, with a slit down the abdomen. I could feel something jutting out of it, and I managed to pry what looked like a photograph from it’s stomach.</p><p>“What is this?” Davis scooched closer and looked at the photograph. It appeared to be Jessica, her father, and her daughter Amy that she mentioned. So Jessica’s father really was in the police. But that still didn’t line up with whoever picked up Jessica’s belongings. Her father was dead, yet someone under Walter Taylor picked up her stuff and left her ashes. It didn’t make sense. Also, who was this Bob Wilson on her file, that was her guardian after her father passed?</p><p>“I didn’t manage to get any contact details for her next of kin. But I looked in the security gate registry books and found a number plate of the car this ‘Taylor’ has.” </p><p><br/>“Davis! You’re a star!” I give him a peck on the cheek. “Okay, we can work with this. It’s not much but it’s something.”</p><p>“I have someone that can help.” He pauses, and looks at me cheekily. “But I’ll need another kiss-” I smack him on the arm. “Okay, okay, I was joking.” Davis pulls a scrap of paper from his notepad, and scrawls a name and number. “His name is Jack. He’ll have the information you need to track these people down.”</p><p>Downing my cocktail, I grab my coat and begin to head out when Davis calls out after me “Leaving already Liz?” I flash a smile at him, and pull the brim of my hat down. I had to figure out what happened to Jessica Taylor.</p><p>Working at Gotham Times on stories in the day, and spending any time in between following up on the leads from the hospital, I found myself burning out. But I had to keep up appearances, I didn’t want to lose my position at the newspaper, and I couldn’t let the mystery of Jessica’s death slip through my fingers.</p><p>I had met with the informant that Davis provided me with, and he’d managed to come up with a few promising contacts. But they proved fruitless, as the Bob Wilson he managed to track down refused to give me anything to work with. I didn’t expect much from the NYPD, but the secrecy was obvious, and I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. One thing Bob Wilson said stuck out to me </p><p>“Miss Colvin, this case is way more dangerous than you think. I must warn you again, stay out of this.”</p><p>I took my usual seat at the diner across the street from the newspaper, and began to brainstorm the information I gathered. </p><p>
  <em>Bob Wilson was partners with Walter Taylor in the force, who supposedly ended up getting killed on the line of duty. His daughter Jessica, was admitted to Metropolitan Hospital after her father’s death. Taylor was searching for Jessica’s missing daughter Amy. Amy had not been seen since, and Wilson was made legal guardian for Jessica.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bob Wilson had no knowledge of Jessica’s death, as the hospital had not notified him. He was not the one who collected Jessica’s possessions, as he doesn’t own a car. The license plate number was 20L310.</em>
</p><p>I swirled my teaspoon around in my coffee, deep in thought. Bob Wilson was keeping tight lipped about this, and I had no faith in the police to support me in my investigations. I shuffled my papers until I found the address Jack had given to me, regarding the license plate and where to find the vehicle. Contemplating on whether or not to inform Davis of my lead, I looked at the Gotham Times building in the distance. Bob Wilson had warned me of the danger, and as much help Davis had been, I didn’t want to jeopardize his safety, just because I was curious. I elected to leave him out of this part of the investigation. Resolved, I left the diner and jumped into a cab to the address messily written down by Jack.</p><p>“Wellmer Medical Factory, please.”</p><p>As I exited the cab, I noticed the factory gates were tightly shut. It was almost impossible to tell if it was still in operation. Intent on finding another way into the factory, I circled the huge compound and spotted the factory’s back door. However, I found it bolted shut. Stymied, I spotted a small diner opposite the factory, and decide to scope it out for any clues.</p><p>The bell of the door chimed as I entered the empty diner. A middle-aged man walks towards me, with a dish cloth slung over his shoulders, eyeing me up and down.</p><p>“Miss, we’re not open for lunch yet.”</p><p>“I was just wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”<br/>The owner nods silently, with his arms crossed.<br/>“Is the factory opposite still in operation?”</p><p>“Sure, my diner is still in business thanks to those lot at the factory.”</p><p>“Long working hours I presume?”</p><p>“You bet, 12 hour shifts, 8 till 8. No wonder they’re protesting for worker’s rights.”</p><p>“Damn, I can imagine. And the factory owners?”</p><p>“Not budging.”</p><p>The sound of the door chime goes off, and a forlorn looking woman walks in, carrying a thick stack of papers. She looked grief striken and drained of all colour. Her clothes fell limply against her body, and messy tendrils of hair framed her gaunt face.</p><p>“Ivanova…”</p><p>“Can I put a few of these up?” She held the stack of papers close to her chest. The owner sighed, and nodded sympathetically. The woman pins a poster up on the bulletin board, and pastes one on the wall, smoothing it with her frail hands.</p><p>The poster reads:</p><p>
  <em>Missing Child</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lilia, 8 years old went missing on her way home from school, please call if you have any information on her whereabouts.</em>
</p><p>A picture of the girl in question shows a beaming, happy child from times I imagined long gone..</p><p>Realising it could be a link to my investigation, I approached Ms Ivanova. Taken aback by my presence, she jumps slightly.</p><p>“I couldn’t help but overhear, your daughter is missing?”<br/>She nods, teary eyed.<br/>“If you would Ms Ivanova, I have a few questions to ask you.” Ms Ivanova followed behind me apprehensive, as we headed towards Gotham Times to discuss her daughter’s disappearance further.</p><p>I poured her a cup of coffee, as we discussed putting a notice in the paper, in exchange for information on the layout of the factory. She hastily draws me a map, and details points of significance to investigate. As she gets up to leave, she grabs my hands, her red eyes welling up in tears.</p><p>“Please find my Lilia.” She croaks.</p><p>“I’ll get to the bottom of it Ms Ivanova. I promise.” She smiles sadly, and leaves the office without saying another word.</p><p>With the map Ms Ivanova drew in hand, a large overcoat and my combat boots, I made my way to the factory in the dead of night.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Woooo, that was a long one. I really wanted to start laying the foundation of the Jessica Taylor case, and add more Davis/Elizabeth banter. Davis is so much fun to write, and is a cinnamon roll. </p><p>But yeah, rewriting the dialogue feels a lot more rewarding, and I'm glad I can write Elizabeth how I feel suits her. She's a smart cookie, and the game plays her as some ditzy character. She knows what's up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cold Sweat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elizabeth's venture into the factory goes wrong, her phone won't stop ringing and a threat to her family places her in the eye of the storm.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was around midnight when I arrived at the back door of Wellmer Medical Factory. There was no one guarding the back door, and the tall iron gate surrounding the compound was firmly shut. My upper body strength was not my strong suit, so hauling myself over the wrought iron gates was an endeavour. Eventually I tumbled over onto the other side, my feet smarting with the impact. I hobbled around in a little circle waiting for the pain to subside. After the pain started to fade, I unfurled the map of the factory. Tracing the arrows with my finger, I decide to go to the Western parking lot first.</p><p>The compound looked even more intimidating under the cloak of night, towering shadows and an unsettling quiet blanketed the factory. I could have as easily infiltrated the work force in the day, but thought the cover of darkness would make things easier. Mixed with the chill of the night air, along with the threat of being caught trespassing, I was starting to regret my decision. I told myself I needed to focus on getting as much evidence as possible, and not to linger longer than I needed to. I rubbed my goose-pimpled arms and pressed on further into the compound. I tried to tread as lightly as possible, although the crunch of the gravel beneath my feet gave me away to anyone who may have been in my vicinity, I headed towards the mark on the map. There was a disquieting stillness in the air, as if danger was just lurking around the corner. Anxious, I ran as fast as I could to the parking lot.</p><p>Surveying the scene, few cars were present at the parking lot, meaning the process of elimination would prove easier than I had anticipated. Weaving between the vehicles parked, I checked each license plate. No luck. As I headed for the car furthest from the gate I’d got in from, I spotted the license plate number.</p><p>
  <em>2L0310.</em>
</p><p>“Gotcha!” I cheered triumphantly. Peering inside from the window, I scoured the car for any other clues to whom the car belonged. Suddenly I jumped at the sound of an engine revving, and retreated back into the shadows. I thought no one was supposed to be here. Crouching behind the vehicle, I saw a minivan approaching and swerving to a stop. Several men swaggered out of the factory and walked towards the men disembarking the minivan. Some kind of clandestine gathering.</p><p>“Right on the dot, Mr Ricci.” A gruff voice said tauntingly.</p><p>Mr Ricci? Mr Puzo’s right hand man? What is he doing here? My stomach turns, he couldn’t have anything to do with the missing girls can he?</p><p>“Punctuality is a virtue, Mr Rossi.” From what I could see of him, Mr Ricci appeared stone-faced. It was a far cry from what I remembered of him. He always seemed so jovial, so easy going.</p><p>Mr Ricci’s voice cut through the silence of the parking lot. “Where is it?”</p><p>The man who was facing Mr Ricci waved his hand, and his men removed the tarp covering the goods beside him.</p><p>“It’s all here. Sixty barrels of the good stuff. As discussed with Puzo.”</p><p>“I don’t have time to inspect the goods. Can I trust you?”</p><p>“Don’t question my principles, Ricci. Me and Frankie are in the past. Done.”</p><p>“Smart choice, Mr Rossi.”</p><p>“I’m a new man, clean slate and all that.” Mr. Rossi boasted.</p><p>Mr Ricci lit a cigar, puffed and chuckled “Amen to that.” Waving his hand, his men jumped to life to move the barrels to the van. A large leather suitcase was passed between them. After the gentlemen exchanged a firm handshake, Mr Ricci started to head for his minivan to oversee the loading of the goods, as Rossi was approached by one of his men. Rossi’s men’s heads turned in my direction and they started to march towards my hiding spot. I frantically looked around me for a distraction, but found myself curling into a ball, hoping they wouldn’t pay attention to me. I plastered myself against the car, drenched in sweat, my shirt sticking to my skin, and holding my breath.</p><p>“Yo, Boss! There’s someone here!” A man’s voice boomed. One of the henchmen grabbed my arm and dragged me towards Mr Rossi, yanking me to face him. Rossi towered above me, his face sharp and angular, grimacing angrily at me. He was an older man, his eyes sagged in what looked like years of toil, and his face seemed to be fixed with a displeased expression, his brow knotted and his mouth upturned disapprovingly.</p><p>“You a worker? What are you doing here?” He barked.</p><p>“I fell asleep in the factory. I just woke up…” My eyes darted to the floor, whilst I desperately looked for an excuse that would smooth over his rage.</p><p>“Tsk, I hate liars. We had the factory cleared out.” He stepped closer.</p><p>“What’s the problem Rossi?” Mr Ricci calls from the minivan. He was too far away from me to run to, without the lot of us getting shot up. Besides, my back was to him, and he would probably feign ignorance even if he knew it was me.</p><p>“It’s nothing. Just a little mouse that lost her way.” Rossi grinned at me, and lifted my chin with a gloved finger to look into my terror-stricken eyes.</p><p>“Haha, now I’m curious. What’s a big cat like you gon’ do to this lil’ mouse?”</p><p>“Our business is done Ricci. You should get going.” His face dropped back into his scowl.</p><p>“Sure thing. See ya.” With that, the minivan was fully loaded with goods and Mr Ricci sped off into the night, out of my grasp.</p><p>One of Rossi’s men piped up “What should we do with her boss?”</p><p>Rossi stroked his chin contemplatively. “Mice like you tend to squeak, so we’d better make preparations to make sure she doesn’t make a sound.” He nodded at his men, and they started to drag me away. Digging my heels into the ground, I tried to fight back. I flailed and fought against their grip, catching one of them off balance and managing to shake his hold off on me. I stepped towards Rossi, desperate to find a way to bargain with my impending doom.</p><p>“I’m not a worker! I’m a reporter! If you kill me, all of New York will know what you’ve done!”</p><p>Rossi’s laugh boomed across in the deserted parking lot. “What a feisty one she is. These lies don’t do a broad like you much good.” He turned his back from me and started to walk back towards the light of the factory.</p><p>Panic-stricken I pleaded, “I’m Elizabeth Colvin, a reporter at Gotham Times.” His ears perked up, and he stopped in his tracks. I continued  “Prosecutor Boseman and I are working together on a case. If she finds out you’re involved in all this… well…”</p><p>“So Miss Reporter, how do you find yourself in this predicament?” Rossi looked amused.</p><p>“I’m doing a story on the worker’s right protests. I came here to get evidence, but it appears I got caught in the crossfire.” His men’s grip loosened and I stood up straight, and brushed myself off. “Why don’t we strike up a deal? Let me go, and tonight’s activities will remain between us.”</p><p>Rossi lapsed into deep thought after hearing my proposal. He didn’t say anything for a long time. I began to fear the worst and I felt a lump form in my throat.</p><p>After a painfully long pause he replied “Okay, Miss Colvin. We’ve got ourselves a deal.” I almost tripped over approaching his outstretched hand, and shook it with probably too much enthusiasm. His grip felt like a vice, and his menacing glare made my blood run cold. After a moment, he planted his hand on my shoulder and he guided me to his car. “Let me get you home. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll run into at this time?”</p><p>I caught something from the corner of my eye. <em> 2L0310 </em>. I stood in front of the car of my target.</p><p>“What’s the matter, Miss Colvin?” His growl snapped me out of my bleak realisation.</p><p>“I’ve just never had the chance to be in such a nice car, it’s a little overwhelming.” I giggled coquettishly, hoping that it would have some kind of positive effect on the situation.</p><p>He scoffed, and drove me to a main street in silence. I sat upright for the majority of the journey, worried my sweat soaked back would cling to the leather of the seats. As the car slowed to a stop, I struggled to hide my eagerness to escape the most tense car journey I’d had in my life. I almost catapulted myself out of the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me whilst stumbling onto the pavement.</p><p>Behind me, from the car window Rossi uttered threateningly, “Remember what you promised, Miss Colvin, or else…” I spun my head around to meet his gaze, and I caught a dark glint in his eyes. I knew it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.</p><p>“Understood.” I nodded, and stood paralyzed in fear as I watched him drive away.</p><p> </p><p>********</p><p> </p><p>The effort it took me to pull myself out of bed, and to work the following day was an undertaking. The office was abuzz, people gathered in the kitchen laughing heartily over their caffeine kick. Attempting to go unnoticed, I beelined for my desk and slumped into a pile of stress. Rubbing my heavy eyes, I took a sip of watery filter coffee I’d made in a hurry, not wanting to socialise. From the corner of my eye, I could see some of my colleagues’ mouths agape. They whispered. “No milk or sugar. Jesus, I wonder what happened to her.”</p><p>This was the dawn of a new Elizabeth. My near-death experience had given me the strength to down the undrinkable bitterness in my mug to the last drop. I slammed the mug down, wiped my mouth with my sleeve and began to furiously type. I hunched over my typewriter, engrossed in the click of the keys, whilst I drowned out the sound of the office, and the fear I was trying to quell. I hadn’t been writing for long when I was interrupted by a phone call from Jack, my informant. I looked about the office quickly, and bent over, covering my mouth. His next assignment was to investigate Rio Rossi, and with the confirmation of payment, I gently placed the phone back. I exhaled deeply, feeling a tiny sliver of hope of having one over on Rossi. </p><p>I was grateful to work at such a hectic newspaper as the week went on, as the chaos kept me busy, and my mind away from Rossi. At first I tried to keep to myself and stayed late every night at the office, piling my desk with manuscripts to print. But my withdrawal would never go unnoticed to Davis. </p><p>“Lizzie, we’re going out! You need a night out on the town.” Davis swooped down on my desk. Looking up at him mock annoyed, I grumbled back.</p><p>“Look Davis, that’s lovely but I really need to finish this-”</p><p>“I’ll pick you up at 7?” He beamed at me. I caved and reluctantly accepted his invitation.</p><p>I gazed at myself in the mirror in my cramped apartment. Due to my hussle at work, and getting a healthy commission due to my features, I had managed to update my wardrobe. I looked a lot more like a bright young thing than I had done not so long ago. I decided to wear a slinky terracotta dress, with a matching beaded purse, and a mink stole. I no longer looked like the rambunctious wanna-be reporter from the sticks. Standing tall and proud, I reflected a fragment of what I’d been dying to become. A force to be reckoned with. Davis’ car horn took me out of my musings, and I rushed downstairs to meet him.</p><p>We arrived at The Grand. It was a popular spot, opulently decorated, and absolutely brimming with people in silk, velvet and jewels. My eyes lit up as I saw the band in the ballroom performing lively swing, and snapping their fingers to the bass player’s riff. Davis noticed my excitement, and grabbed my hand to dance right in the middle of the floor. Swinging our legs and arms, matching each other’s passion and mirth, we danced as if the weight of the world had been lifted from our slouched shoulders. </p><p>Falling into a seat at a table full of our colleagues, I found myself drinking myself into a stupor, merry and revelling in the night’s festivities. </p><p>The night became a blur after my third cocktail.</p><p>From what little I could recollect, I believe Davis had the responsibility of returning me home. I can’t imagine it was easy getting me up a flight of stairs, and into bed. The last image that remained of that glimmering night was Davis tucking me in, and planting a gentle kiss atop of my mussed up hair. </p><p> </p><p>**********</p><p> </p><p>The harsh sunlight shone through my curtains and eyelids, crudely waking my aching body. I used what little strength I had to drag my haggard body to the office. I’d hoped to creep into the office without attracting any attention, but Davis’ red face stifling his laughter greeted me. I waddled over to the bathroom, locked the door and noticed the crusty remnants of makeup from the previous night’s drunken episode. After splashing my face with water, and scrubbing what I could off of my puffy face, I trotted back to my desk as quickly as I could, and clumsily fumbled my glasses on to mask my humiliation. </p><p> </p><p>“Psst! Colvin! How did you sleep?” Davis whispered loudly across our desks.</p><p>“Shut… up.” </p><p>He laughed again, and left me to my shame as I tried to hide myself amongst the papers that needed writing.</p><p>During my break, Davis came and perched a top of my desk, brandishing a coffee he made for me. “Don’t beat yourself up too much Liz. Just think of it as a celebration. The paper is getting some real traction now. You deserve it.”</p><p>I smiled at him gratefully. “Y-yeah. You’re right.” Our moment of respite was interrupted by my phone ringing.</p><p>“Hello! Elizabeth Colvin of Gotham Times speaking.” My voice cracked at my greeting, which Davis giggled at. I stared daggers at him, and he began to back off.</p><p>“Liezel!”</p><p>“Lola? This is my work number. Is everything okay?”</p><p>“Liezel, things are not good. I tried calling your apartment and-” My grandmother’s voice shook.</p><p>“Don’t worry, just tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>“Yesterday, several gangsters came by the farm and demanded three thousand dollars to settle your Lolo’s gambling debt!”</p><p>“What? Lolo never had a gambling habit?!”</p><p>“Things have been tight, Liezel. He got into it with some farmers over the races and…”</p><p>“Three thousand dollars…”</p><p>“Darling, if we don’t come up with the money, they said they’re gonna kill him!”</p><p>“Oh.. my god…”</p><p>“Liezel, have you been getting into trouble again? We’ve talked about this.” I knew where she was trying to go with this.</p><p>“Lola I-”</p><p>“I warned you before, just because your father could- He risked his life, upset the wrong people. New York was a mistake.”</p><p>“No. Lola, look I’m going to fix this. I’m going to find a way. Tell them we’ll pay up.”</p><p>“Liezel…” She trailed off, I could hear her trying to hold back her tears.</p><p>“Stay safe, the both of you. I will sort this.” I swiftly ended the call. My hands were shaking, probably a mix of coffee and the overwhelming anxiety that had taken residence in me. I felt paralyzed. I searched my mind for ways of attaining that amount of cash. There was no way I could come up with the money just from work. Unless I resorted to other forms of work. I thought of my grandparents and how the Depression had taken hold of so many families. I wouldn’t and couldn’t let them become part of the statistics that I reported. Maybe Davis had some nice friends that I could entertain for the evening, just to make up some of the funds.</p><p>As I considered my options, my phone rang again. I rushed to answer and a familiar voice was on the other end.</p><p>“Hello, Miss Colvin.”</p><p>“Mr Rossi.” The bastard. It was him. I could feel the malice in his voice. Attempting to mask my shock in his call, I cooly replied “Is something the matter?”</p><p>“Miss Colvin, those who break promises must be punished. If you continue to indulge your curiosity, you may not be able to pay the price.”</p><p>I paused, taking in his words. “Understood Mr Rossi.” </p><p>Expecting him to end the call there, I was in the process of returning the phone to the receiver when he chuckled “You know what? I thought the name Colvin sounded familiar. I used to know a Colvin. A reporter. Imagine that?”</p><p>I don’t reply.</p><p>“I’m sure you’re very busy Miss Colvin, so I’ll keep it brief. Three thousand dollars, have it by the end of the week.” Rossi slammed the phone on his end and our conversation was cut off. I gasped for air, and walked to the window, not wanting anyone to see the panic on my face.</p><p>That motherfucker. He’s testing me, trying to hit a nerve. But I couldn’t let him show I was fazed by any of his threats. I thought back to my grandparents. They didn’t deserve to be caught up in this mess I made.</p><p>I was my father’s daughter all right. But also my mother’s. Both my parents were caught up in trouble constantly, and whilst I always saw it as glamorous and exciting, my grandparents used it to keep me in check.</p><p>As I spaced out, my eyes drifting across the streets’ traffic, I remembered a business card I’d kept. Using a tiny brass key to unlock my desk drawer, I gently lifted a folded newsprint that encased the cream business card that had come to mind.</p><p>As I dialled in the number noted on the card, I bit my nails nervously. We’d only met briefly, and although he offered his assistance, would he even help me with this mess I’d created?</p><p>Whilst the phone rang, I glanced down at the newsprint next to the business card. I had been intrigued by Mr Puzo’s business ventures, and kept a cut out of one of his interviews on a new establishment he owned. The photograph of him made him look so striking and noble, I found myself caressing the portrait with my fingertip when the other end picked up.</p><p>“Ah! Mr Puzo, it’s me. Elizabeth Colvin, Gotham Times. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”</p><p>“Not at all, Miss Colvin. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” He was being so cordial.</p><p>Clearing my throat I admitted, “I’m actually a little embarrassed to admit it, but I need your help.”</p><p>“Go on.”</p><p>“It’s a bit of a sticky situation and you’re the only one who I think can help me. It’s complicated.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>With no hesitation I blurted out “Is it alright if we can talk in person?” Flustered, I attempted to correct myself “You see- it’s difficult to talk over the phone about and-”</p><p>“May I have the honour of your company for dinner tomorrow?”</p><p>“Ah! Yes! Of course, that would be great. Thank you Mr Puzo!”</p><p>“It’s too early to thank me. I’ll send someone to pick you up tomorrow.”</p><p>“Pick me up? I can meet you there, it’s no trouble on my end.”</p><p>“It’s only polite. See you tomorrow, Miss Colvin.”</p><p>I sat there stunned that he agreed to see me on such short notice. And dinner?! I definitely sounded way too eager accepting his invitation. My throat was dry, and my heart was beating out of my chest.</p><p>Slyly, I snuck over to Gabby, Mr Kane’s secretary, and hushedly asked if she could help me pick out something for an important dinner meeting. Her amethyst eyes lit up excitedly. She was the fashionista of the office, always up to date with all the trends, with help from her affluent upbringing. She had dyed her hair silvery blonde, and her finger waves were impeccable day in and day out. I envied her closet, today’s look was a trim navy blue dress, with a capelet adorned with lace.</p><p>Learning over her desk she whispered “Who’s the lucky man?” I could see the excitement in her eyes.</p><p>“It’s no one. He’s just helping me out of a pinch.” I dismissed her.</p><p>“Mmmhmm, okay. Well it must be important if you need my help!” She winked at me playfully, and we agreed on her leading our expedition.</p><p>I tried to stifle my excitement for the remainder of the day, although guilt sat in the pit of my stomach. Here I was, giggling like a schoolgirl at the chance of meeting Mr. Puzo for dinner, when my grandparents’ lives were relying on my tact. It was a sobering thought, but I struggled to shake the anticipation of seeing Mr. Puzo again.</p><p>Before heading out, Davis took me aside and asked if I was okay. I reassured him that I was okay, I just had matters to attend to.</p><p>“Liz, look, if you ever need anything. Please let me know.” He rested his hand on my shoulder. In response I looked up at him warmly.</p><p>“I really appreciate it Edmund. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>*************</p><p> </p><p>I was grateful for Gabby, as if not for her I would have been bobbing in and out of countless boutiques, lost as anything. At her recommendation, she picked out a black satin, figure hugging dress, with an open back and ruffle sleeves. As I tried it on in the dressing room, she gasped.</p><p>“Oh Miss Colvin! The way it drapes across your body is simply divine!”</p><p>I blushed, and noticed how open the back was, how vulnerable my skin was. But part of that vulnerability excited me. We paired it with matching black ruffled gloves, black pumps, a velvet and lace hat and a clutch bag. </p><p>As I got ready the following evening, I adorned myself in my mother’s pearls. Staring at my reflection intently, I stirred up what courage I had inside me. Even if I had to play a part of someone nonplussed by the maelstrom on my doorstep, it was part of my occupation, as well as my survival in this city. I would become whatever I had to, deck myself out into whatever disguise to get to the truth. My unrelenting, and unwavering pursuit of knowledge, and curiosity was something I would never be ashamed of. My parents instilled those values in me, and I would make them proud.</p><p>From the window, I saw a sleek black car pull up, and a familiar looking figure emerge from the driver's seat. My stomach dropped at the sight of him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just wanted to dedicate this chapter to so many of the lovelies I've been chatting with on Discord. All the support has been of such comfort to me, and has really given me the fuel to keep writing this! Love you guys!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. "Mary Pickford, Please"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Liz finds herself seeking help after receiving a threat to her family, Davis throws her into the deep end and a lucrative deal is secured.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a dialogue heavy chapter, so buckle up, it's a long 'un!</p>
<p>*Mary Pickford is a cocktail, and it's Liz's favourite!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mr. Ricci leant against the door of his vehicle, and lit up a cigarette, and as I watched him the gravity of reality set in. I was on the knife’s edge, and I had to play my cards right. Gathering my courage, I held my head up and marched out of my apartment. As I locked up, Ms Johnson, my landlady came bounding down the hallway, holding a manila envelope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin! This was left in the foyer, without your room number. What have I said about me being your personal mailman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I see. I’m sorry.” She placed the thick envelope in my hands, and I could hear her grumbling to herself as she walked off. My name was written neatly on the front, with no address whatsoever, and no return overleaf either. Not wanting to keep Mr Ricci waiting, I stuffed the envelope into my purse, and headed downstairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Strutting out towards my ride, I smiled coyly. “Mr Ricci! Long time so see.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood in silence for a moment, and then blurted out. “M-Miss Colvin! Yes, it has been a while.” He leant over, kissed my gloved hand and opened the car door for me. I’d been in a number of luxurious automobiles over the past month, yet still I felt a little uncomfortable being chauffeured around, but it was at Mr. Puzo’s insistence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How have things been Mr. Ricci? How’s the building site looking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can call me Nino, Miss Colvin.” He smiled at me through the rear mirror. “And yeah, things are lookin’ peachy. Haven’t seen much of Alvaro, which has given me some peace and quiet.” Nino chuckled. “What about you? I’ve seen your name popping up in the papers a lot these days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve been on the grind. I like staying busy. Keeps my mind off-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, we’re here Miss Colvin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, thank you Nino.” Peering out the window, we had arrived at an immaculate looking Italian restaurant. Restaurant Vesuvio. Only elites, and wealthy gatecrashers like Davis could ever gain entry. The exterior was festooned in wisteria and ivy, cream scalloped awnings and the fixings were all gilded with gold. I was lost for words for a moment, awestruck, whilst I heard the sounds of a piano and bass coming from within. Imposter syndrome started to seep in, and I immediately began to feel out of my depth. Nino stared at me quizzically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here? Are you sure this is the right place Nino?” I asked anxiously, grasping my clutch bag for comfort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, yes of course Miss Colvin. Don’t worry, Mr Puzo will take care of you.” He opened the door and beckoned me in. “Come on.” Walking on the plush velvet carpet, as well as seeing the judging faces of the upper class clientele, made my whole body heat up in embarrassment. I felt even more aware of how exposed my back was, and sure I heard scoffs and gasps in my direction. It was hard to tell if it was even directed at me, or just my anxiety talking, and I almost lost Nino in the labyrinthine complexity of the restaurant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nearly smacked into Nino’s back, as he came to a stop, my eyes fixed to the floor flustered at this whole affair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin, we meet again. Please have a seat.” Mr. Puzo graciously pulled out a chair for me. I looked at Nino for confirmation, and he gestured towards the private booth set up for our meeting. As I sat down, I became acutely aware of the proximity of my bare skin next to Mr. Puzo’s hands, and I felt my body shiver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Professional, Elizabeth. This is a meeting. Nothing more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The table was decorated in such finery, our booth was dimly lit with flickering candlelight, with an abundance of roses placed between us. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed in such close quarters to Mr. Puzo, who didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. His coolness towards the situation almost made me feel more feverish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he seated himself and waved Nino off, I collected myself, and reminded myself why I was there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me under such short notice, Mr. Puzo. I know you normally have your hands full, so I really appreciate this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think nothing of it. I made you a promise, after all.” He took a sip of his wine, and noticed me staring at his glass. By some kind of sixth sense he possessed, in seconds he had a waiter filling my empty glass. I seized the wine and took a healthy gulp, velvety bordeaux descending down my throat, filling me with the courage to confront the enigmatic man opposite me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better?” Mr. Puzo mused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha, yeah. A lot better thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned back in his chair, he looked so at home, as if he owned the place. “Now… Miss Colvin, what do you need my help with?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be honest, this matter has got all kinds of crazy. I have no one else to turn to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m listening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I finished my glass of red, and sighed. “We’ll need another round. I may be a while.” He chuckled, and nodded for me to continue as our glasses were topped up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It all started back at my old job at The Sun News. I was playing detective at Metropolitan Hospital, to get a story that would save my position at the newspaper.” I laughed. “A lot of good that did. But regardless I gathered some damning evidence on the practices there, and met someone named Jessica Taylor. She was a patient, and I wanted to write her story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Noble intentions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would think. Well, it was a hit, and I was invited to a press party by the Newspaper Association. Halfway through it, I’m fired. No explanation. The bastard. So I left, and that’s when I clocked I was being followed. And luckily, I ran into you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you did.” Mr. Puzo’s eyes stared at me intently as I retold the events. The alcohol was helping take the edge off, as I gazed back at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not long after, my room was broken into and all my notes were stolen. Obviously the police wouldn’t do shit about some intern reporter’s lost notes, and I talked to Diane Boseman about it over the phone. She told me that it’s likely all linked, which as helpful as it was, really made my paranoia justifiable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But not enough to stay away from trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a reporter. It’s what I do. Anyway, my colleague and I went back to the hospital and they told me Jessica was dead. Just like that. As for her belongings, supposedly they were taken away by her father. Her father was a police officer who died in the line of duty, years prior. So someone claiming to be him just swooped by to grab her stuff, and left her ashes there? It doesn’t add up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strange.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I got some leads, pointing me to Wellmer Medical. I sneaked in at night and happened to witness a transaction. Rio Rossi, was one of those present.” I carefully chose my words, not knowing where Mr. Puzo stood, seeing as his own men were the other party.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rio Rossi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please go on.” His tone shifted, and I decided not to press him further. Maybe it's a touchy subject.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rio Rossi’s the one who claimed Jessica’s belongings. And he caught me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you get away?” Mr. Puzo’s eyes widened, an expression I hadn’t seen from him before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it was by the skin of my teeth. I proposed a deal for my silence, and he agreed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really are trouble.” Mr. Puzo laughed, but I could sense an air of disapproval in his voice. “Miss Colvin, I take it that the help you want involves dealing with Rossi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s right. He realised that I’ve been investigating him in secret. But instead of confronting me directly, he targeted my family. He duped my grandpa into incurring a huge gambling debt, and he threatened to kill him if I continued my investigations.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We pause, as our appetisers come and we dig in, leaving our conservation hanging in the air. Everything was served in such small portions, I felt my stomach grumble under the table, although I attempted to savour the decadence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, this is the fanciest Italian food I’ve ever had!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have much Italian food, Miss Colvin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a small place down the street from mine, and the portions are triple this!” Realising my crass comment, I stuttered “I mean, this is divine so-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, don’t worry, I understand completely. I hope this is to your liking though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! Very much so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you were saying about your family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah yes!” I had gotten caught up in the atmosphere, I’d forgotten we were talking about my family’s mortality being at risk. “So, on top of that. He mentioned something else that unsettled me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said he knew my father…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edward Colvin. He was a reporter. He died when I was young. My grandparents say it was a car crash. But if so, how the Hell does Rossi know him? My parents were in New Orleans at the time so…” I trail off, feeling a lump form in my throat. I hadn’t told anyone about my parents, nor really had anyone to talk to at length about them. “You see, Mr. Puzo. In my heart, I know that can’t be the truth. And Rossi has just let the cat out the bag. He must have something to do with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has there been any more contact with Rossi since his threats?” Mr. Puzo leant towards me, his chin resting on his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not from Rossi, but before I came here today, I received an envelope with my name on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you opened it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I have it here.” I leafed out the envelope and placed it between us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m impressed by your self control, Miss Reporter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel more at ease knowing you’re here with me whilst I open it.” Mr. Puzo looked taken aback by my sincerity for a split second, and then his eyes softened. He gestures for me to open the envelope. I tear the seal, and a photograph flutters out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I almost stumbled out of my seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s-?! That’s my parents?! How the fuck did he get this?” Overwhelmed, I felt my chest start to constrict, the air suddenly felt suffocating. Mr. Puzo’s voice pierces through the white noise in my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elizabeth. Composure. Take a deep breath.” I meet his gaze, my body shaking with fear and anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Puzo, what do I do?” He pours me a glass of water, and passes it to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drink this first.” I nod and sip. After exhaling, I noticed something attached to the back of the photograph of my parents. It was a news clipping. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Crazed, jealous lover kills the beloved “Pearl of New Orleans”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What- what is this?” I muttered dumbfounded. It was such a small snippet of the article, with no trace of what newspaper it had even come from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So your suspicions seem correct, Miss Colvin.” Mr. Puzo cleared his throat. “Rossi has some connection to your parents, and is baiting you.” He smoothed his hair back, and looked contemplative.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This has got a whole lot worse. I understand if you can’t get your hands dirty with this. I’m sure I can find a way to sort this out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re overthinking, Miss Colvin. I’ll send someone to deal with it.” He was short with his answer, and it took me a second to absorb what he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it that easy? Haven’t I just made things so much harder?” I looked down dejectedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do love to chase trouble Miss Colvin, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. This is my promise to you. One you deserve.” I looked up at him as he comforted me. My heart skipped a beat as I could tell how fervently he meant every word he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To even the playing field, I owe you one now. And also, anything you need, I’ll be there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hold you to that Miss Colvin.” As we spot our entrees coming, I reach over to clasp his hand. He looked at me puzzled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr. Puzo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the meal, our conversation migrated to idle chatter, soaking up the ambience of the evening, and enjoying one another’s company. Somehow Mr. Puzo had this power of unloading the burden on my shoulders, whisking away my troubles and making me almost forget the storm that was brewing. I also almost forgot who we both were, as if we were just two people who had crossed paths and making good on our frequent encounters, rather than an intern at a newspaper, and a man who ran an empire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the night came to a close, I realised as I was getting into the car to be taken home, that Nino wasn’t the one sending me off. He stood outside, smoking a cigarette with a crooked grin, smirking in our direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I felt just like that mouse Rossi described me as. Next to Mr. Puzo, I just felt like a coincidence, and that all this glamour and intensity I felt was temporary. Part of me felt pained at the realization that I had become fond of Mr Puzo’s presence over the past month, yet the sobering thought of never seeing him again, quieted the beating of my heart around him to a dull murmur I could control.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As we drove, from what I could gather was the scenic route home, Mr Puzo turned to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin, if I may ask, will you continue your investigations on Rossi?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it wasn’t for everything else, maybe I could stop. But I’m not going to give up. I’m just going to have to be more creative with my methods.” I smiled pridefully, but from the corner of my eye, Mr Puzo’s expression looked solemn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if you keep this up, you may be at the receiving end of his threats. Have you thought about this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be honest, this did cross my mind. However, there’s too much at stake, and Rossi has put the ball in my court. If he wants to play games, I’m more than happy to meet him halfway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rossi alone may not faze you, but what if there are other powers involved? You’re sharp, and should already have an idea of Rossi’s dealings.” Mr Puzo shot a look at me. “This much I can say. Rossi has deep connections with the Juliano family, I don't think this is something you can handle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How would you know what I can handle, Mr Puzo? This clearly runs deeper than I could have ever imagined. I’m not going to give up that easily.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin, astute people should not put themselves in the line of danger. Besides, even if you do find something, the Juliano family is untouchable. There are collusions with authorities for money. Do you not understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr Puzo, thank you for your warning. It’s not my intention to disregard your kind advice. But I’ve my own values to hold on to. Of course I understand. This is beyond what either of us could have imagined, so trust in me to do right by the people that have been wronged.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re one tough nut to crack, Miss Colvin. Are you sure you’re not tied up in some shady business?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I not be asking you that?” The car goes quiet, save for the sound of the wheels on the road. It felt like an eternity before Mr Puzo responded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin, we’ve met under some unprecedented circumstances. I’d like to hear who you think I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not just tell me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want to hear your honest opinion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After the incident at the premiere, I figured you must have connections to the Mafia.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since you’ve already made these assumptions, why would you still ask me for help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although encounters with Mr Puzo were few and far between, he always appeared at crucial moments, and saved me from my predicament. The enigmatic strength, and the resolve in his eyes when he promised me, these made me seek him out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The car pulled to a stop outside my apartment, and Mr Puzo looked at me, waiting for my answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who you are doesn’t matter to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you mean that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve shown me nothing but compassion and understanding. You’ve been one of the only people in this city to treat me like a human being. I am grateful for all that you’ve done for me.” I wasn’t sure if it was the wine talking, or if I had suddenly forgotten who I was talking to. “Somehow, I don’t know why, but I trust you. At the end of the day, we all do what we have to do to survive right?” The car falls silent again, as Mr Puzo looks introspective.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin are you really going to continue investigations on Rossi?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, I’ll never back down on this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’ve really made up your mind, wait to hear from me in three days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three days?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll know by then.” Mr Puzo reached over to open the door on my side. As I stepped out of the safety of his car, I fumbled with my keys, and heard Mr Puzo call out.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet dreams, Miss Colvin.” With that, he drove away. I stood at the doorway, my eyes transfixed on the black car disappearing into the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three days then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*****************</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next couple of days dragged on, each day painfully slow. I found myself easily distracted and clumsier than usual. From knocking coffee over transcripts and horrendous typos in my typing, my mind was transfixed on how things were going to pan out. I was off in a daze when Davis cleared his throat, and I just caught the end of what he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone coming on Friday?” I parroted Davis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Liz, have you been listening at all?” He exhaled, and before I had the chance to answer he added “Just so you know the gravity of the situation, we have a VIP interview coming up on Friday. The fate of our humble paper relies on this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez, okay, I’ll mark it on the calendar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Liz, please. I need you to be on your best behaviour.” I pouted at him playfully, but he looked legitimately stressed about the situation. I felt slightly hurt that he didn’t trust me to do a good job. Although that being said, I hadn’t made a good example of myself over the past couple of days, spacing out for long stretches of time definitely didn’t help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Davis.” Seeing Davis in such a state, made me feel determined to ease his troubles and power through the stack of papers on my desk, so he could have my full focus. I placed a hand on Davis’ back and tried to reassure him “Davis, I’m going to work on getting these all done today, so you have nothing to worry about okay? We’ll knock tomorrow’s interview out of the park.” Davis smiled meekly at me, and patted my shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Lizzie. I knew I could count on you.” He got up and started to walk to his office. “Before I forget Liz, you’ve got to look presentable tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Presentable?!” I huffed. Without responding, he slid into his room, and came out with a bag, and placed it on top of my desk. Dumbfounded, I looked at the contents and gasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edmund?! I couldn’t possibly-” With that, he sped past me, and out of the office calling out to everyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m off early, have a good afternoon everyone!” Then he was gone. I clenched my fists, and resolved to use my anger to help finish the heap of work on my desk. Hours ticked by, and I blocked out the happenings going on around me, focusing only on the sound of my typewriter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As I pulled myself out of my hunched writing position, I noticed there was only White left in the office. 9pm. White had already packed up for the evening, grabbed his coat from the hanger, and lingered at the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Liz, do you mind locking up? I’m off for the night.” His voice sounded shaky, laced with worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh yeah, of course.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some of those don’t need doing till tomorrow, you’d better pack it in for the night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t take me too long to finish these, don’t worry about me White.” I beamed. I didn’t want him to have to worry. He’d become a good friend of mine in the office, another intern, but he would always get stressed out by the most minute thing. His circular glasses would fog up, and he would start stuttering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you say so, Colvin. Night.” White did have a point, I didn’t have to write up the rest of the articles yet, but I also wanted to check off everything so I could fully throw myself into the interview tomorrow. One more couldn’t hurt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*********************</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ding!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I clicked my neck, and stretched my arms at the peal of my typewriter, and looked up at the office clock. 11pm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“11pm?!” I looked at my watch, and sure enough it echoed the same time. “It got so late so fast.” I mumbled to myself, jumping up from my seat. I gathered my belongings, switched my lamp off, and locked up the office before sprinting for the last bus to my block. Almost falling asleep standing up, I had to slap my face to stay conscious and not end up at the other end of the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time I got back to my apartment, I slumped onto my bed, fully clothed, glasses on, exhausted. I didn’t even remember falling asleep, just the sound of Ms Johnson banging on my door in the morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin?! Miss Colvin? Are you home?!” I jolted up, and ran over to the door and ripped it open in a hurry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is everything okay, Ms Johnson?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got a message for you, from someone called Miss Martine. She told me to remind you of your 10am appointment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, okay, what time is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“9:20”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“WHAT?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Girl, you’d better get going!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Ms Johnson!” Not meaning to, I slammed the door, and ran looking for Edmund’s bag of overpriced garments he intended for me to wear. Ms Johnson’s moaning was audible as she waddled off down the hall, as I pranced about my room trying to get myself together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would take me 20 minutes to get to work, given that I could even get a taxi during rush hour. I hadn’t even had time to prepare for the interview, so I was praying that Davis hadn’t expected me to lead. Grabbing my makeup bag, I did what was humanly possible for 5 minutes, smoothed down the silk skirt and blouse, and almost forgot my pumps on the way out. I tripped over the doorway on the way out, swung out of my building and whistled as loud as I could for a cab. A taxi skidded to a halt, and I threw myself into the back and blurted “GOTHAM TIMES. 25TH STREET. AND STEP ON IT.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright lady! Jeez!” We sped off, swerving, bobbing and weaving through the city’s morning traffic. Until we were a couple of blocks away from the office, we got stuck. Sticking my head out of the window, I saw the traffic spanning yards, with no end in sight. I could wait, and definitely be late, or I could run for it and get there just barely making it. Throwing my bill and too much tip at the driver, I jumped out, and started to sprint for the office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Davis is going to fucking kill me!!” I breathed to myself, as I dodged beeping cars, focused on the Gotham Times building. My legs started to burn, my chest ached, and my mouth was dry as I ascended two flights of stairs and slammed into the office door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus! I’m sorry I’m late! I-” I stopped, the office stared at me in silence. I saw Davis showing someone into his office, and his glare burned right through me. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like at that moment, but glancing at the clock it was 9:59am. I smirked to myself, proud that I beat the taxi, but Davis’ seething rage eclipsed my pride. I panned my eyes to the VIP we were interviewing, and gasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“M-Mr Pu-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you could give me and Miss Colvin a minute, we’ll be with you in a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Mr. Puzo replied, and entered his office. Davis gently shut the door, and stormed over to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Davis, I’m sorry I didn’t know I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s intern rule number 8?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sighed “Always be punctual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look Liz, I cannot stress this enough. This interview has to go smoothly. Literally the future of the paper is in your sweaty hands.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Davis. I tried to power through the backlog of work so I would have my mind free today and I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, let’s do what we can to salvage this. Use that Colvin charm, lay it on thick. We’ll need it. And you’ll be scribing for me. Seeing as I doubt you had time to do any background research.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I felt my cheeks flush. I was close to telling Davis, I had actually spent time extensively looking at Mr Puzo’s background for my own indulgence. But I decided against betraying myself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great. Let’s do this.” I said as I followed behind Davis, breathing deeply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turned to Gabby, who was looking nervously in my direction, and I mouthed the word ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ to her. She nodded and sped off into the kitchen. Before stepping into the office, without turning around, Davis muttered, “Mr Kane’s on annual leave. It’s our chance to really push the paper and get into his good books.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotcha.” I held my breath as we entered Davis’ office, which was looking miraculously tidy and organised, a far cry from the disarray that it was usually in. Mr Puzo sat there, statuesque, the morning light bathing his form, and framing his angular features. I clenched my fists, and recited to myself ‘Focus Liz. Professional Liz.’ Edmund pulled me a seat directly opposite Mr. Puzo, and he leaned casually against his desk, arms folded in his usual stance. I wasn’t sure if I could be friendly with Mr Puzo, or if it was improper, so I stayed quiet as Gabby burst in with my coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lizzie- oops, I mean Miss Colvin, here’s your coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thank you Gabby.” I thanked her, and grabbed the scalding hot cup, and rested it against my chest. I smiled gratefully at her, as she ushered herself out of the room. Slurping my drink, I burnt my tongue, but I didn’t care. I needed fuel for whatever was to befall me, and I downed the lot of it whilst Edmund and Mr. Puzo made some idle chit chat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ready Colvin?” Davis asked in his trademark captivating tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, golden. Go for it.” I kept my eyes on my notepad, and away from Mr. Puzo, at least until the caffeine kicked in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So Mr Puzo, let’s talk about your recent business endeavours.” They talked lightly about the expansion of Puzo Industries, and I wrote some brief notes, highlighting only to myself of how much I already had on the man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, to what do you owe your success?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Asking me that?” Mr. Puzo questioned. He looked slightly irked by Davis’ unimaginative question. I could see Davis’ forehead start to sweat. He looked taken aback, his usual charm hadn’t managed to work on Mr. Puzo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I interjected “How did your humble beginnings on the streets of New York get you to the empire you’ve created?” I stared intently at Mr. Puzo, smiling gently. From the corner of my eye, I could see Davis decompress, and relax slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well a lot I learnt from the streets, I could apply to my business practices. Humility goes a long way and knowing how to relate to others builds long lasting relationships in the city.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s quite the inspirational story is it not? What would you say to other entrepreneurs, looking to attain an ounce of your success?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be proactive, it’s about hard graft. Blood, sweat and tears will see you through. New York City is not for the faint hearted and it’ll eat you alive if you’re not willing to fight.” I felt that the latter part was slightly targeted at me, but I continued unperturbed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of fighting, how’s the dispute going with the Vosse Tower?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No complaints. We settled with them on the height of our buildings, but our grand opening party was brought forward due to demand.” He laughed. “So who knows what they’ll pull to compete?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With your expansion in New York spreading, have you got plans for further afield? Being from Sicily, you must have some roots in New Orleans? Any potential there? Jazz venues or are bars an avenue that interests you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I notice Davis’ mouth agape, in surprise, and impressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re very well researched Miss Colvin.” Mr. Puzo grins at me, holding his hand in his chin. I see him look down at my hand and chuckle at the sight of his fountain pen between my fingers. I felt embarrassed, but I retained my poker face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not often a man of your calibre and achievement has time for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Interrupting our slightly flirtatious back and forth, Davis interrupts “So, is there a driving force, a motivator?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo, leans back in his chair, takes a sip of his coffee and looks off in the distance. “No. I merely focus on my goals, and what I have to do to achieve them. Always forward, never back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning closer, Davis says teasingly “Not a Mrs. Puzo to come back home to after a long day of brokering deals?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My stomach drops. This whole time, I never thought about it. Most of the times I’d run into him, he’d had his gloves on. How could I be so schoolgirlish and foolhardy? He must have some beautiful vamp on his arm. I felt my cheeks redden, and I looked down at my trembling hands. I convinced myself it was the coffee shakes, and not the disappointment that began to well up inside me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I do not.” Mr. Puzo asserted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sure the ladies of New York are clawing to get a piece of such an accomplished businessman.” Davis winked at Mr. Puzo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I piped up “I’m sure from your appetite for industry, romance isn’t on top of your priorities. I understand. New York is constantly moving, to be on top of it, you cannot be distracted.” I surprised myself with the torrent of words that fell out, but I tried to lean into it, attempting to mask any trace of my previous discomfort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It seems you understand me completely Miss Colvin.” I could feel how genuine the sentiment was, and felt myself becoming flustered once again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well that looks like the end of our interview! Let’s wrap this up.” Davis announced, jumping up from his desk and grabbing his coat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Mr. Puzo stood up, I felt so insignificant against his towering form. I’d worn heels to work, but it made little difference to how tiny I was in comparison. Trying to maintain my professionalism I beamed, “Thank you so much for your time Mr. Puzo. This interview has been invaluable experience. I had a lot of fun getting to know you better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Likewise, Miss Colvin.” It was like he was either purposefully trying to throw me, or he could have honestly meant it. I decided to go by the former, he was just trying to wind me up. Davis cut between us. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a lunch appointment!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah yes, you must be busy. I’ll get out of your hair and start-” I stuttered, heading for the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Colvin, you too! We’re all going.” Davis came between me and the door, and stood there in shock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me?!” I stared at him in disbelief. Not Davis too? Why do men live off winding me up?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard me, grab your coat!” Davis swung his arm around me amicably. I felt myself shrink under his arm, aware of Mr. Puzo’s presence. But his face showed nothing other than his usual stoic gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If Miss Colvin has previous engagements-” Mr. Puzo said, his eyes beginning to turn distant. I averted my gaze, not wanting to linger on his face for too long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, she’s off duty for the rest of the day!” Davis chimed, and began to push me out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“D-davis…” I stuttered, trying to get a word in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides, our ride is waiting Lizzie, let’s go.” He kept shoving me across the room, much to my reluctance. The office fell quiet for a brief moment, but piped back up with the usual hubbub of the printing presses, and chatter. As we passed Gabby’s desk, I stared at her like a deer in headlights, and she stared back equally bewildered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as we approach the exit, White jumps in front of me excitedly. “Colvin! Just wanted to say I have those papers from the archive on that business guy, whatever his name was Pozzo-something?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In utter embarrassment, I lean in towards him, speaking through my teeth. “Later, White. Got it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got it!” He whimpers, and runs off. What timing. I prayed that Mr. Puzo didn’t catch anything he said, but I felt too humiliated to turn around to see his reaction. Luckily, Davis yanked me down the stairs, and into a fancy looking car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I immediately retrieved my notepad to get a headstart on writing up the article, and to distract myself from reality. I briefly look up and notice Edmund getting into the front seat, next to the chauffeur, and Mr. Puzo seats himself adjacent to me. I felt my body seize up, and I forced my head down to focus on writing up what I could. My chest was pounding, and I couldn’t bear to bring myself to acknowledge Mr. Puzo’s existence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My focus was broken by Mr. Puzo’s voice, “You’re very dedicated to your work, Miss Colvin.” I hadn’t realised how close he was, as he leant over to talk to me. I quickly looked up at him, and looked back down at my papers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haha! Yep, no rest for the wicked unfortunately.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your work ethic is admirable. Just be careful not to burn out.” I turn to face him, and notice the concern in his expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I can rest when I’m dead!” I joked, trying to make light of the situation. He frowned, seeming a little put out by my stubbornness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here!” Davis announced. He spun around in his seat, and looked at us. “What are you two whispering about back there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s just go already!” I shot out of the car, gathering my papers, and shoving them in my satchel. No matter how many upper-class establishments Davis took me to, I could never get used to the grandeur. It felt even worse knowing that this was just as unremarkable to Mr. Puzo. I felt like the odd one out yet again, and was dreading sitting at a table with two of the arguably most wealthy men in the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As we were seated, I took in my surroundings. The walls were robin’s egg blue, with grand golden mirrors hanging, and marble floors. Large marble pillars lined the venue, and delicate chandeliers cascaded above us. This was supposed to be just lunch. My lunch usually consisted of a bagel down the street, a good bagel at that. But this was so beyond my comfort zone. I remained quiet as I let Davis and Mr. Puzo talk to the waiter. I didn’t know anything about how to act in these situations I kept finding myself in. I studied their mannerisms, and set on trying to emulate it when I had the chance. I would drown in New York if I couldn’t play the part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So! Liz! You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.” Davis said, twiddling his thumbs and smirking at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder frequently about the things you do.” I scoffed and pouted at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, as you’re my right hand man,” he leaned towards me, he sat between Mr. Puzo and I, “You should be the first to know, Puzo and I have secured a deal for Gotham Times!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah! What?” I exclaimed with my hands over my mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Integrity is a huge part of how I run my business. Investing in a paper that reflects the same principles, it’s profitable on both our parts. New York needs more of this in circulation, and I’m happy to be the one to help make it happen.” Mr. Puzo explained. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations to the both of you!” I raised my glass to toast them. It occurred to me, that with an inexhaustible supply of money, you could really do anything, these two were living proof. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Us? What about you Liz?” Davis shot back at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me? What did I do?” I laughed nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here.” Davis handed me over a thick business card, embossed on the front with my name.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Elizabeth Colvin</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Feature Editor</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gotham Times</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been promoted Colvin.” Davis smiled warmly at me, and I felt joy wash over me. He knew how badly I wanted this, and how many nights I sacrificed sleep. My blistered hands, and countless cups of coffee hadn’t gone unnoticed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edmund… I don’t know what to say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you would be a start. Actually before that, since we’re still a small team, you’ll still need to be on the ground getting stories. But you’re a natural, so you’ll be fine.” Davis laughed, and patted me on the back. I threw my arms around him and embraced him tightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you so much for this. You don’t know what this means.” I suddenly remembered where I was, and who I was with and let him go sheepishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations Miss Colvin.” Mr. Puzo said across the table, raising his glass. We toast our glasses. “I look forward to reading more from you in the future.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the evening progressed, more drinks were trolleyed to our table, and I began to relax. We stayed way past lunch, into dinner time, and I watched as couples began to file into the venue in droves, each more sickenly engrossed with one another. The band switched out to a ten piece, playing sultry jazz, and the lights dimming. A waiter came over to light the candelabra on our table, and I felt warm looking over at Mr. Puzo, as he nursed his whiskey. I bathed in the aura of him, feeling blessed to have had the opportunity to be in this situation with him again. I soaked in the image of him, his composed tranquility amongst the hustle and bustle. He carried himself with such purpose, that his poise couldn’t ever be mistaken for apathy, he was perfectly aware of all happenings about him, and it intrigued me deeply. That being said, that very moment, he caught my gaze, and I looked off into the crowd, who had started coupling up to dance. I saw him notice me tapping my feet to the jazz, I desperately wanted to go up and dance, but I felt intimidated by the crowd of socialites. Davis also noticed, jumped up, and stretched his hand out to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s dance Liz!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling hot, and embarrassed I rejected him. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I’m exhausted Davis.” I looked down at my lap, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Liz, you’re a great dancer!” Before I had the chance to protest, a familiar face burst through the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie! Darling! I’m so happy to see you!” Daisy Collins bounded over to him and kissed his cheek, giving me a dirty look as she did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Daisy, you’re looking lovelier than ever.” She blushed, and gave him a turn around, showing her low cut dress, allowing him to take it all in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just going to steal him from you! Ciao!” Not giving Davis a chance to respond, she pulled him into the sea of couples, indistinguishable from the rest of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I rubbed my temples, and rested my elbows on the table, groaning “Not this shit again. Last time they hooked up, there was that shoot out. I hope you don’t have another lined up, Mr. Puzo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr Puzo smirked at me, finished his whiskey. “It’s my night off tonight Miss Colvin. You’re safe.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well in any case, this place in unknown territory, so finding us a hiding spot would prove a challenge anyway.” I sipped my Mary Pickford, my lips curling around the rim of the glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’d find a way. You’re very resourceful.” Mr. Puzo leaned over the table, his eyes not leaving mine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you noticed, getting out of trouble is my forte.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trouble sounds about right.” The air began to feel stifling between us. I wasn’t sure if it was me mixing drinks, or that I wanted to close the distance between Mr Puzo and I. The cocktails were helping me abandon all reason, and my body was yearning to be closer to his. The music behind us began to slow, and I saw Mr. Puzo rise from his seat. I began to lament our moment being severed by his commitments, but he extended his hand and said “While we have the chance, will you dance with me, Miss Colvin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I managed to stutter a “Sure” and I let him lead me to the floor, placing his right hand on the small of my back, and pulling me close to him. It felt a flash of nostalgia hit me, as I could smell the aroma of liquor, cologne and tobacco again. The moment in the projection room, our bodies inexplicably close, my heart throbbing out of my chest. But this, this was bliss. We swayed gently to the slow, cozy tempo of the bass and saxophone, and I rested my head against his chest. He lowered his lips to my ear “It’s all done. Your family is safe.” He whispered almost inaudibly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” My head shot up to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush.” He put my head back to his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence before I responded. “Really, Mr Puzo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All sorted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beginning to feel overcome with relief, and gratitude, I spill out “Mr, Puzo, if I could ever repay you for what you’ve done for me…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are now.” His reply makes my heart stop, and I feel like I’m dreaming as he continues to hold me close to him. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I closed my eyes, said nothing and soaked up the feeling of being held in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*****************************</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the amount of alcohol in my system, the cool night air made me shiver, as I waited patiently for Davis to emerge from the rest of the crowd. Mr. Puzo waited with me, insisting that I shouldn’t wait alone. I was grateful for his company, for safety, and also because I wasn’t ready to part with him yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s getting late.” Mr. Puzo turns to me, watching me shiver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I’ll just head home. I’m not about to wait for him to finish his business with Daisy again.” I grumbled, scowling at my watch. I turn my back to the swiveling doors of the building and start walking. Before I could defiantly march away as I planned, Mr. Puzo stepped in front of me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t think I’m gonna let you walk home alone. It’s like you’re looking for trouble.” He folded his arms and looked at me sternly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve done enough for me already. Besides, it’s not that late, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I tried to step to the side to get past him, but he mirrored my step.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I insist, Miss Colvin. This is for your safety.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bah! Fine!” I stomp towards his car, secretly celebrating an extra stretch of time I got to spend with him. I let him open the door for me, as I brattishly got in, huffing and pouting. But before long, I felt my eyelids getting heavy. The day's events, and the copious amount of alcohol in my bloodstream, lulled me to sleep. I drifted off, feeling safe and warm, not able to fight the exhaustion any longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My sleep was dreamless, the tides of fatigue holding me captive. I finally came to when I heard someone calling out my name gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Miss Colvin, sorry to wake you. We’re here.” In shock, I almost hit my head on the roof of the car from jumping. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no! I’m the one that’s sorry, gosh how long was I out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not long, you’ve had quite the week, I imagine you needed that.” I looked down to see Mr Puzo’s coat draped over me, his scent comforted me, but I fought against my urges and handed it back to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“T-thank you. I had a really nice time tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As did I.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Also! I need to make it up to you, after all you’ve done. So, how about I buy you dinner? You can pick the place and everything!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Puzo chuckled, “Of course. I’ll free up some time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, if you’re too busy I understand, you’ve got that empire to run and all.” I laugh nervously, disheartened by my naivety.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Next week? The Vesuvio again if that works for you?” I gulp as he says the Vesuvio. That would take up a huge portion of my paycheck, but I can just get a starter, and some tap water. Just like back in college.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds grand! I’ll meet you there. And thank you for the ride home.” Instead of leaving me to walk to the door alone, Mr. Puzo escorts me to my room. Part of me feels electric having him so close to crossing the precipice between his life and mine. I hesitate before going into my room. He ends the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin, stay safe, and try and stay out of trouble.” Whilst not what ladies being dropped off home would usually expect, it felt sincere and affectionate coming from him, so I relished those words. Taking advantage of the remnants of merriness I could get away with, I perched on my toes, and pecked his cheek. My lips brushed the slight stubble coming through his otherwise clean shaven face, and I felt my body shiver at the proximity to his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vowing not to get carried away I simply replied, “I’ll do my best, Mr Puzo. Good night.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, as a heads up, Davis has already made himself known to be the owner of the newspaper, but still works as a colleague to Liz. I forgot to pop that in, but I'm sure it makes sense! (I hope.)</p>
<p>Also I was beaming the whole time writing about Puzo's and Liz's interactions, like THAT TENSION UGH. I always feel overwhelmed by writing these, but as soon as I start going it's hard to stop! Listening to smooth jazz while writing this always gets me in this zone, and I'm just having such a blast writing this.</p>
<p>Thank you again to all the amazing people on Discord, and to the devs for creating a dreamboat like Vitto.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Left Behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Liz returns home to Colvin Farm to check up on her family after Rossi's threats.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dedicated to the darling @makatja, my partner in Vitto worship! Thank you lovely for sharing my passion for GM, and this fic and my pain is dedicated to you! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Mr. and Mrs. Colvin-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Susmaryosep-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I briefly glanced up to see my grandparents rush over to me on the porch, but I quickly shot my head back down and focused on my grazed knees, my grass stained dress, and muddy feet. My whole body itched with humiliation, and sweat stuck my once pale blue dress to my skin. My cheeks burned as I tried to wriggle out of Officer Roberts’ vice grip on my arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elizabeth, what did we tell you?” My grandmother’s voice was shrill and strained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Officer, what happened?” My grandfather asked meekly in comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Caught her out on the Campbell’s property again, hiding out in the barn.” I tried tugging myself away from Officer Roberts’ hold, but the more I struggled, the harder he clamped down on my wrists. “This is the third time this month we’ve found her trespassing on private property.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry Officer. We assure you this won’t happen again.” My grandmother replied. The latter part of the sentence was directed at me, as I could hear it spoken through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should perhaps consider sending her to one of those finishing schools across the country. For young wayward ladies. They come back prim and proper.” I felt Officer Roberts squeeze my wrists harder. “I imagine it would keep this one out of harm’s way. And my way.” I could practically feel his breath against my neck as he spoke, and every part of me wanted to sprint away from his grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for the advice, we’ll consider it.” My grandmother murmured, sounding sold on the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Officer Roberts stepped in front of me to face me, his portly body obscuring my view of my grandparents and my escape. His face resembled a beetroot, only made worse with the physical endeavour I put him through trying to catch me. His beady eyes squinted as he spoke to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little tip from me, little Miss Colvin. You are not a detective. You are not a reporter. So I would suggest quitting now before you find yourself shot.” He spat as he spoke. “State laws dictate that land owners are entitled to protect their property. This is your final warning.” My body yearned to fight back, but I remained composed, trying to seem unbothered. This struck a nerve, and he leaned ever closer, his moustached lips next to my ear. “We’ll make it look like an accident if we have to.” As he stood back, he looked pleased with himself at the threat. Not wanting to show an ounce of fear, I mustered up a sweet smile, and simply replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Officer Roberts grunted in response, and pushed me into the arms of my family. “Good evening.” He began to turn away, and marched towards his car. Not wanting him to have the last word, I smugly called out after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m<em> sorry</em> for the trouble, Officer!” Before I could continue, my grandfather covered my mouth and yanked me inside, slamming the door. O</span>
  <span>nce we heard the tires against the gravel, and the sound of the engine started to fade, my grandmother erupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on earth do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed Liezel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t talk back this time, I think you can at least give me that Lola.” I smirked defiantly, but my grandmother’s fury quickly overshadowed my sass. She raised her hand to hit me, but quickly withdrew it and turned away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel! You deal with her!” She stormed to the kitchen, snatching a bottle of pills from the counter, swallowed the contents, and swigged down whatever she held in her flask. After a moment of composing herself, she sighed. “The doctor warned me about my blood pressure, and I cannot afford to keel over because of your shenanigans.” She looked like she lost the fight in her all of a sudden. I wasn’t used to such a brief reproach, usually they spanned hours, days even. My grandfather and I watched her hurry to her room, stunned and silent, flinching when she slammed her door. I felt even more guilt wash over me. I could handle the routine, the slap on the wrist, the raised voices, but the resignation chilled me. I felt worse yet, being left in the custody of my grandfather’s punishment. My grandmother was the chief interrogator in my ritualistic scolding, so my grandfather ultimately was uncharted terrority.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liezel…” The disappointment in his voice made me wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lolo, I know. I just got a tip about the stableboy, and I really thought to check it out. He’s been shady recently and I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liezel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unsure of how else to respond, I continued trying to explain myself. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t mean to stress you guys out. I just know something’s going on, and someone had to do something about it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liezel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lie.."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"..zel.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
***********************<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt my body rock as I was being gently shaken from my slumber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, we’re here..” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I opened my eyes, my vision blurred. A familiar voice soothed me. “Come on sleepyhead, your Lola is dying to see you.” Disoriented, got up from my grandfather’s shoulder, and sheepishly tried to wipe some residual drool off of his shirt. He chuckled warmly, his face weathered with years of toil and labour, deep wrinkles embedded on his bronze skin. Age spots peppered his complexion, and his deep brown eyes were downturned, yet held a strength that I had long admired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lolo- how long was I out?” I wiped some drool that had escaped from my mouth. I felt out of sorts, the day-long train journey to Kentucky had wiped me out by the time my grandfather picked me up. All I wanted was to collapse onto my bed, and forgo the interrogation that was to ensue as soon I stepped through the door. My grandfather could sense my apprehension and laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve told her to be on her best behaviour.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slid out of the cramped vehicle, and retrieved my bags from the trunk. Clicking my neck, I sighed, and got out after him. The dust of the drive kicked up as I jumped down, and made me sneeze. I felt a sting in my chest, as the fields surrounding me proved a stark reminder of how far I was from my life in New York. I looked up at the pocket sized farmhouse I’d called home for years, meadows and crops laid beyond for miles, rushes of corn swayed in the gentle spring breeze. A brief tranquility washed over me, as my ears couldn’t pick up the sound of traffic, sirens or the sound of my neighbours through paper thin walls. It was almost eerily quiet, the sound of crickets and wind was all that was audible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d been practically ordered to take some time off, so I took advantage of the opportunity to check up on my family. Davis was reluctant to see me go, as he’d got me on the guest list for the Sky Tower grand opening gala. I shared in his disappointment, as I wouldn’t arrive until late that night, and by then all the festivities would surely be over. It was the perfect opportunity to network as the new Feature Editor, build up my contacts, and to get some solid content for the newspaper. But deep down, I knew the real reason for my dismay. I would be missing out on another chance encounter with Mr. Puzo. I knew it was immature, and unprofessional seeing his new affiliation with the paper, yet I couldn’t fight the regret I felt for not being able to make his event. But after everything that had happened over the past month, I owed it to myself and my family to take some time out of the bustle of the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bracing myself for impact, I cautiously opened the front door, to be rushed by my grandmother, kissing my cheeks, and gripping onto me for dear life. I could hear my grandfather chuckling behind me, staying a safe distance from the storm of kisses and cheek pinching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-hi Lola, you can let me go now.” I tried to free myself from her grasp, but it was to no avail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was so worried about you anak! You’re so skinny now!” She pulled back from her embrace, looked me up and down and frowned. “I told you, you need to eat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must eat na! Come in, I will feed you well!” She looked over her shoulder to my grandfather. “Honey! Have you seen how skinny our Liezel has got? Diyos ko!” Without giving my grandfather a second to respond, she ushered me into the kitchen and sat me down at the dining table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I looked around, admiring how little things had changed since I’d left. Our kitchenette was barely enough to hold two, let alone three people. I watched my grandmother buzz about the kitchen, boiling some water on the stove for some coffee. My grandfather eventually joined us, after placing my luggage away, attempting to sidle into a seat next to me. From what I could see of the rest of the house, it looked suspended in time. The wallpaper remained yellowed and curled at the edges, moth-eaten curtains fluttered in the breeze, and the nostalgic scent of jasmine hung in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My grandmother’s love of food hadn’t waned, clearly, since I’d moved. She was a stocky and stout woman, with a lot of meat on her bones. Despite her height, her strength was no joke. She rivaled some of the farm hands that worked on the ranch. She was an iron willed force to be reckoned with, with a temper to match. But I knew I was her weakness, and I worried for her when I first left home. Even watching her flit about the kitchen, I felt a tinge of remorse for everything I had put her through. She may have tried to disguise her loneliness in her overbearing interference with my life, but I knew she carried an even deeper guilt within that she would never reveal to neither my grandfather nor I.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Interrupting my thoughts, a coffee was placed in front of me, and my grandmother took a seat across the table from me, anticipating my tales of the big city. Trying to appear nonchalant, I focused stirring in my cream and sugar and muttered, “So, how are things here?” There was a brief pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re referring to that trouble we had, then it’s the strangest thing.” My grandmother scratched her head, puzzled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My grandfather interjected, after taking a contemplative sip of his coffee. “It’s over.” He then returned to looking at the day’s newspaper on the kitchen table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt a lump form in my throat. I couldn’t give away my involvement in how things were resolved, I would never hear the end of it, or even be allowed back in New York, so I attempted to appear unfussed at the news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Thank god.” I absentmindedly continued to swirl my spoon in my mug, trying not to display my curiosity at how things ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s odd. Those goons just said they wouldn’t be pursuing it further.” My grandmother looked baffled, but sighed cheerfully. “I’ve been racking my brains over this. Why would they suddenly let us off the hook?” She glanced down, her dark eyes squinting whilst deep in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why indeed.” I took a sip of my coffee, looking off at the back porch, wanting to evade any suspicion they made have held towards me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t make sense why they would just let up so quickly. I did think you had a friend who-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop the speculation Maria, what matters is that it's done.” My grandfather was gruff in his tone, looking put out at my grandmother’s prying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-maybe they just got the wrong people.” I managed to stutter out. It was hard to keep things from my grandparents, and considering their lives were on the line due to my recklessness, I felt the guilt eating away at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanting to move on from the topic, I steered things towards my promotion. The afternoon was full of us catching up on the glitz and glamour I had experienced in the past month. I was relieved the subject was dropped, and almost forgot that my dealings with the underworld of New York, was the real reason I came home in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the warmth of the day faded into the cool of the evening, the house felt full of life. I laid the table whilst my family slaved away in the kitchen making my comfort dish, chicken adobo. It was difficult to find anything that compared to my grandmother’s cooking in New York, there was a great place by the docks, but even so, nothing beat her home cooked meals. She relished in the fact, and filled the table with countless dishes to keep her crown as the culinary queen of my heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My stomach rumbled in excitement and anticipation as I sat ready to dive in. I was caught up in the lively atmosphere of our little household of three, when the phone rang, joining in with the discord of clattering pots and pans. My grandfather grabbed the receiver, answering it in a brusque tone, before handing it to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a Mr. Davis?” Whilst my grandfather seemed unbothered, my grandmother’s head shot up in interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Davis? Who’s that? A gentleman caller?” Scowling at my grandmother, I covered the receiver with my hand, and growled down the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get this number Edmund?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms Johnson was more than happy to assist.” He boasted. I knew it wouldn’t take much of his debonair charm to win Ms Johnson over, but nevertheless I felt peeved at the lack of privacy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, stalker. What do you want? It’s my weekend off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. But I thought you’d like to know, Ms Charlotte Harris has confirmed to do an interview with you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” I shouted way too loudly down the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?!” Davis matched my enthusiasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So when is it?” I looked at my grandparents and gave them a thumbs up, and they jumped about excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, here’s the thing.” Davis trailed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, of course, there’s a catch.” My smile faded, and I sat down. “Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you know you said you’d be back on Tuesday evening. Miss Harris is only free on Tuesday morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well okay, you can do it then. I can’t possibly get back to New York for then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The thing is, I already said… you would do it. So, there’s that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Davis?! For heaven’s sake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you blow your gasket, I have a plan. Instead of getting that awful train back, I’ll come get you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Davis. Honey. Do you know how long of a drive that is?” I said sarcastically, as I rolled my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz, darling. Do you know how good this’ll look for Gotham Times?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh resigned. I knew he was right, but as well as the 11 hour drive, I didn’t want him to see where I was from. I wasn’t exactly embarrassed, but I liked keeping my New York and Kentucky identities separate. Besides, I’d only brought my old clothes with me to wear at home, and I didn’t want him to catch me looking like the country bumpkin that everyone labelled me as, when I first moved to the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll pay for your gas. It’s going to be a hell of a journey at such short notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about gas money, you can just pay for dinner on the way back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal. Do you have a pen handy? I can give you my address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All taken care of. Ms Johnson was very thorough.” He said teasingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to move out of there. She is compromising my safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have nothing to worry about Liz, I won’t let you come to harm.” I couldn’t tell if he was still teasing me or if he was serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flustered, it took me a second before I stammered, “See you tomorrow. Drive safe, Edmund.” I hastily put the phone down, and gave my grandfather the look of ‘please don’t hound me on this’. Although he tried his best, my grandmother inquisitively prodded at me the entire evening, dinner not even proving a worthy distraction. I was mentally and physically exerted after the grilling, as well as the undertaking of finishing the pile of food my grandmother plated up. My bloated stomach signalled to me that it was time to pass out on my old, rickety bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>****************</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I laid face down on the crocheted throw on my worn down mattress, a knock snapped me out of my food coma. My grandfather walked in, with a finger to his lips. I nodded silently, as he perched next to me on the bed. He brought in something bundled up in heaps of dusty fabric, masking it from view of my grandmother no doubt. He laid it to the side, and inched closer to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makulit. I know what you’re up against.” He kept his voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lolo I-” His intense gaze made me freeze up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to know the details, it will kill me with worry.” He looked down, and I instinctively grabbed his worn hands. “You have your mother’s spirit. And your father’s will.” His voice began to choke up, but he cleared his throat and continued. “I wasn’t sure when the right time to give you this.” He shakily passed over the bundle and placed it on my lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this Lolo?” My voice shook. I couldn’t make out anything from what he had given me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before answering my question, he pulled out his pipe from his waistcoat, lit it and inhaled. Visibly calmer, he went on. “Your parents, they stumbled onto something bigger than them. You’re just like them. Poking at the beehive and not afraid to get stung.” He puffed his pipe. “I don’t know what you’ve got into in New York, but your parents wanted you to have these. I don’t know how they will help, but I’m sure they’ll do you more good than being hidden in the floorboards here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I looked at my grandfather for confirmation, before unveiling what lay inside the fabric covering. A small leather case, aged and dusty was beneath, sealed shut with a code. I looked to my grandfather again, who stared intently at the case in silence. Unsure of what number sequence to put in first, I tried my birthday.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>0908</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The case was filled with files, papers, and an ivory envelope sat atop of the contents. As I reached to grab it, my grandfather took my hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liezel. Your father told me to tell you, not to take these lightly. If you were ever to be in possession of these, take your time to absorb what’s inside here. I believe this was the case they worked on before they… left us.” He took his hand away from mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t even know where to start.” I felt flummoxed at the weight of the case, and at the weight of my heart. Since I was 11 I desperately wanted to know what had become of my parent’s case they slaved away at. They barely stayed a day at the farm before running off to chase a lead. My grandparents purposefully left me in the dark, I knew it in my core, but no one had ever given me an honest answer. Years of confusion and dead ends overwhelmed me as I looked at the leather case my parents had left me. The only thing I had of theirs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I felt the tears well up in my eyes, my grandfather handed me a burgundy velvet pouch, wrapped in a lace handkerchief. He avoided my gaze as he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother never went anywhere without this.” He sniffed. “Except for when she needed it most.” He fought back against his tears, and I struggled to hold in mine. It was the first time I’d seen my grandfather so overcome with emotion, let alone speaking so openly about my parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slightly eager with morbid curiosity, I pulled out the content of the velvet pouch. Out came a small snub nosed revolver, that fit snugly in the palm of my hand. I fell speechless, unable to piece together a sentence, a thought, anything. My hands shook as I felt the steely cold of the pocket pistol in my grasp. My head swam with emotions, with confusion and questions. But I knew I would get nothing else from my grandfather as he got up from the bed. He came over, kissed me gently on the forehead and whispered softly “Liezel. Protect yourself. No matter what.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded in response, as he kissed the top of my head, and left me with the burden of what my parents left behind.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this chapter focused mainly on the conservation between Liz and her family, which in game was just a phone call, which I thought was strange after Liz's family being threatened. I would be OVER THERE AS SOON AS. So just some back story here and there, it's a little shorter but don't worry I'll be back with THE CONTENT soon. I just need some time to get back into the flow after the holidays, nevertheless I hope you guys enjoy!</p><p>Also, some translations for you!</p><p>Susmaryosep - A contraction of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Used ss an interjection, especially when you're angry, frustrated, or in disbelief.</p><p>Eat na - literally what all my Filipino relatives say when it's time to eat haha!</p><p>Diyos ko! - My god!</p><p>Anak - baby/child</p><p>Chicken adobo - the best comfort food of all time, Filipino signature dish!</p><p>Makulit - Troublemaker</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Blue Mountain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Liz has an interview with one of the most influential women in the city, and is given an offer she cannot refuse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just wanted to say, thank you all so much for all the love! I'm so touched that people have been enjoying this story! I also wanted to apologise for my absence, and I have every intention on uploading more reguarly. Thank you so much for your patience, and enjoy! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I shielded my eyes from the bright afternoon blaze of the sun, as I walked towards our farmhouse alongside my swaying grandfather. We’d not spoken on the events late last night, but our mutual silence sealed our agreement on secrecy. I’d slept restlessly that night, mulling over the words we exchanged, with my mother’s gun tucked under my pillow. It was some twisted way of feeling close to her, almost comforted by its presence. I’d barely slept when my grandfather rose to see over his farm duties, and I joined him. It felt good to be out in the fresh morning. The day felt crisp and dewy, pale blue skies spanned overhead, and the dark revelations of the night melted into a whisper. </p>
<p>We hauled some sacks of grain together, and I remarked on my loss of upper body strength. I’d become so accustomed to sedentary life in the office, that it shocked me that it was even possible for me to keep up with my grandfather before.</p>
<p>Not knowing how late in the day it had become, I was not prepared for the sight that laid before me. I had to squint to make sure what I was seeing was real.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There sat Davis and my grandmother in the shade of the back porch, gossiping and giggling over iced tea. Davis’ hair was slicked back casually, he wore a linen shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar, as he lounged in the rocking chair across from my grandmother. I felt my jaw drop in astonishment and I marched over, full of anticipation of his coy excuses. </p>
<p>“What do you call this Davis?! You never told me you’d be here this early?” My cheeks puffed up in anger.</p>
<p>“Well, it is not what one would call early Liz.” He retrieved his pocket watch, and smirked. “It’s precisely noon. Besides you never made the effort to ask when I’d arrive.” He took a sip of his drink in amusement.</p>
<p>“You could have at least called to tell me!” I stood with my hands on my hips, eyeing daggers at his nonchalance. Davis met my gaze, and double took as he looked me up and down.</p>
<p>He tried to muffle his laughter. “You can take the girl out of the country, but you can never take the country out the girl.”</p>
<p>“What do you-” I stopped, and looked down. I’d realised, whilst half asleep, I had  shrugged on my old overalls earlier in the morning. My hair was messily tied up with a rag, and I hadn’t even considered putting my makeup on until later.  I hadn’t thought I’d run into anyone whom I’d care about seeing me in such a state. Feeling my face heat up with embarrassment, I swung round and called out to my slowly approaching grandfather. “You never told me how late it was getting Lolo!”</p>
<p>“Time flies when you’re bucking barley!” He chuckled, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. I pouted, not able to look Davis in the eye, who seemed to enjoy watching the spectacle before him.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m going to get dressed. Enjoy fraternizing with my grandmother, you fiend!” I stuck my tongue out and stormed past them into the house. I heard them giggle from the porch ‘how childish’ I was, and how Davis ‘would have loved me to walk into the office in my dungarees’. I practically boiled the bathwater in the tub, as I scrubbed myself, in an attempt to dissolve the Liz from Kentucky. I had managed to find something barely passable to be seen in, given that I hadn’t planned on running into anyone by the time I got back to New York. I brushed my gingham dress down, fixed my hair, and attempted to look put together and composed. As I returned to the cackles downstairs, I cleared my throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m ready now Davis.”</p>
<p>“Oh, her highness is ready now Mr Davis!” My grandmother clinged to his arm, sat adjacent to him in the cool kitchen. Her face beamed as she laughed, her cheeks rosy with joy. I hadn’t seen her so cheerful in a long time, a pang of guilt hit me. As much as I resented Davis’ unexpected arrival, I was grateful to see my family so full of life.</p>
<p>“Parting is such sweet sorrow, Mr and Mrs Colvin.” Davis attempted to get up from the kitchen table, but my grandmother’s grip kept him tethered to her.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?” She looked at him with big pleading eyes. </p>
<p>I huffed, interrupting her pleas. “I’m going to pack the car.” Not that my announcement would reach her as she fussed over Davis. I heard my grandfather follow my lead, grabbing my suitcases from the bottom of the staircase. I watched him as he hauled my belongings. I’d begun to notice his frailty in places, weakness fraying the edges of his being. Childishly I disregarded it, unable to accept his wavering. My grandfather had endured so much hardship, coming home at dusk smelling of the sea for much of my childhood. He’d spent the remainder of my formative years tiring over the farm, the hard graft a solace for him. He was a fortress that never crumbled, my immature denial of his mortality served as reassurance everything would be fine in the end. Yet, deep down I knew years of trouble and toil had begun to leave their mark on him. As we filled the trunk of Edmund’s convertible with my belongings, I noticed a few more bags that I hadn’t arrived with.</p>
<p>“Lolo, what are these?”</p>
<p>“A thank you gesture.” I peered into the canvas sacks that contained a bottle of bourbon, and a mahogany box of cigars. “Someone else’s hand must be <br/>responsible in getting those sharks to back off.” He whispered.</p>
<p>“Lolo- these will cost the farm a fortune, are you sure?” Shame washed over me.</p>
<p>“It’s the least we can do.” My grandfather’s quiet acknowledgement, comforted me yet unsettled me. He could see right through me, and he could tell I was taken aback. “Liz, I know you. You’ll stop at nothing.” He brought a calloused hand to my face. “If it gets too deep…” He trailed off for a moment, his eyes awash with dread. “I’ll handle the rest.” I held his hand against my face. An emptiness began to stir inside me, he knew that I was bound to my curiosity. My pursuit of the truth coursed through every fibre of my being, and I would never be the demure, delicate flower my grandmother prayed I would be. It broke my heart for him to know that I cared so little for my self preservation, that I would so willingly throw caution to the wind. I wished I could reassure him I’d be safe, but I couldn’t. He had already lost his daughter, and now I was selfishly making him accept he may lose his granddaughter too.</p>
<p>“I hope it won’t come to that.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him.</p>
<p>“In the afternoon your Lola goes to town. It’s safest to call then.” </p>
<p>“Okay. I will.”</p>
<p>“Promise me, you’ll defend yourself. You keep hold of that gun.” His voice cracked slightly.</p>
<p>“I promise.” Our bittersweet valediction was soon interrupted by the racket that was Davis and my grandmother.</p>
<p>“What are you two whispering about over there?” My grandmother called out, pressed tightly against Davis. She clung to him so, I was sure she was going to permanently crease his shirt.</p>
<p>My grandfather guffawed at the remark and slammed the hood of the trunk shut. I hurriedly hopped into the passenger seat of the loaded car, and kissed my grandfather on the cheek. The less my grandmother knew the better.</p>
<p>“Mahal kita, Anak. I’ll pray for you.” He muttered as he squeezed my hand. The warmth imparted from his hands made it so much harder to say goodbye. My grandmother swooped in to get her share of tenderness. Her method was to shower me in farewell kisses, and squeezing my cheeks until they were sore.</p>
<p>“Anak! Be good, let Mr Davis take care of you, and call us more often!” I heard Davis snicker as he got into the driver’s seat.</p>
<p>“Sure thing.” I uttered unenthusiastic at the notion of Davis being responsible for me.</p>
<p>“Mahal kita, Liezel, maliit na perlas.” She kissed me gently on the forehead, and did the sign of the cross. I struggled to look her in the eye after my exchange with my grandfather, and decided to mask my feelings into that of a petulant child. Davis started the car, and my grandmother gripped my hand until she could no longer. She waved sadly, as we sped away from the farm. I could make out my grandfather holding her shoulders, ever the bastion of strength. I kept my eyes fixed on the ranch, and their shrinking figures until trees obscured my vision. I yearned to keep it’s image plastered in my memory, knowing it may be the last time I saw it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Much of the journey back to the city was uneventful. I took advantage of the long drive to catch up on lost sleep from the night before, and in a bid to not disturb Davis from his driving. He had made the ambitious promise to drive straight back to New York, only stopping here and there for breaks. He was determined to get me back for our interview with Charlotte Harris, and I appreciated his focus. It allowed me to take my mind off of my family, and we talked at length about work and our approach to the upcoming interview. Bit by bit, I felt the old Elizabeth unlatch itself, unravel and flutter away as we drove on.</p>
<p>It was almost midnight when we pulled up to Wilson Avenue. Davis looked shattered by the journey and I offered him a coffee to help him not pass out at the wheel.</p>
<p>“Oh. <em>Just</em> a coffee Liz?”</p>
<p>“Ugh! I was just trying to be nice!” I swatted his arm at his remark, and slammed the door of the car on my way out. As I fiddled getting my belongings from the trunk, I felt Davis come up behind me.</p>
<p>“I was just messing with you Liz.” He breathed softly into my ear. Goosebumps pricked my skin. “I’d have to take you out to dinner first.” </p>
<p>I spun around, ready to thump him on the arm and didn’t realise how close our faces were. I gulped and stumbled out, “T-thank you for the ride, I mean lift. I’ll see you tomorrow Davis.” I awkwardly patted him on the arm and heaved my bags into the apartment building, eager to escape.</p>
<p>By the time I’d managed to struggle up the flight of stairs to my room, I collapsed in a heap on my bed and nodded straight off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Harris mansion towered before me, it's height blocking out the sun. I craned my neck to take it all in as I got out of the cab and brushed myself down.</p>
<p>The sheer size, and stark white of the building, surrounded by lush green of the courtyard and acres of land proved a reminder of the line of class I was about to cross. Although part of me felt meek in the face of such wealth, I pushed down any self doubt that could jeopardise this interview. I exhaled, and then on my inhale, I transformed into the appropriate identity for the occasion. </p>
<p>“Liz, you’re feature editor of Gotham Times.” I repeated this a few times to psych myself up.</p>
<p>With my seasoned journalist face on, I strutted into the house, accompanied by one of the many maids that worked diligently throughout the mansion. Their uniforms were immaculate, starched stiff and everything about them painstakingly pristine. Not an inch of their uniform was out of place, and they flitted about like little hummingbirds constantly in motion. It was almost labyrinthine navigating the many corridors and staircases before I was delivered to the room I was designated.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I was led into a lounge with sleek couches, geometric architecture, busily patterned wallpaper engulfed the room and gold glittered and gilded most of the interior. The room looked brand new and unused, and I felt guilty for just taking a step on the expensive carpeted floors. I timidly perched on one of the luxe velvet loveseats as I admired the sheer size of the room. It wasn’t long until Charlotte Harris barrelled out of the twin doors across the room, striding towards me confidently. </p>
<p>“Miss Colvin!” She exclaimed, bright and full of life.</p>
<p> I got up with a start to greet her, taken aback by her candour. </p>
<p>“Thank you so much Miss Harris for agreeing to this interview.” I smiled gently and shook her hand.</p>
<p>“No, thank you Miss Colvin! I’m a huge fan of your writing, so the honour is all mine!” She gestured for me to sit and ordered us two Blue Mountain coffees. She was so unaffected by the splendour of her surroundings, reclining in her finely upholstered armchair. She was dressed in a sheer, ivory blouse, coupled with billowy palazzo pants made of navy coloured silk. Her hair was messily wavy, and cropped short, with her signature infectious smile plastered on her face. A diamond encrusted watch hung around her creamy wrists, every inch of her exuding wealth and influence.</p>
<p>I caught myself gawking when our coffees arrived, almost jumping at the maid placing my cup and saucer down. I watched as Charlotte daintily lifted her coffee to her lips, every one of her movements painfully rehearsed, as her upbringing dictated. Feeling as if manners instructed me to, I hastily picked up my coffee and burnt my tongue in the process. My attempt of appearing as a seasoned journalist was proving unsuccessful, but Charlotte laughed heartily.</p>
<p>“Am I making you nervous? I don’t bite, I promise.” </p>
<p>“No!” I retorted a little too loudly. “It’s a little embarrassing actually.”</p>
<p>“Oh do tell, Miss Colvin!” Charlotte edged forward on her seat, eager to hear what I had to say. Her brown, doe like eyes as round as saucers.</p>
<p>“Ahem, well you see. I looked up to you a great deal at Imperial University, so it’s a little surreal to be here right now.” I laughed nervously, avoiding her gaze.</p>
<p>“I knew I recognised you. Elizabeth was it?” She leaned back into her chair. I looked at her dumbfounded, shocked that she even knew who I was back at college.</p>
<p>“Y-yes, I was two years below you. You’ve been a huge source of inspiration for me.” Seeing how at ease Charlotte was, calmed my nerves down a great deal. Yet as unpredictable as ever, Charlotte leant over the small, antique coffee table between us, and clasped my hands.</p>
<p>“We’ve definitely got some catching up to do then, Miss Reporter.” She shot me a wink, and I felt my face turn red. Trying to salvage any semblance of professionalism I had left, I rustled through my papers to find my questions for our interview. With all my might, I repressed all the starstruck awe within me and began the formal interview.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Charlotte was entertaining, and accommodating to the routine questions of her aviation debut. But I wasn’t satisfied with printing yet another rehashed article on the extraordinary Miss Harris. As I neared the end of the prepared questions Mr Kane laid out for me, I quickly slipped my notes in front of them, eager to hear what she had to say.</p>
<p>“How do you find navigating the world of aviation? One of which is dominated by men?” Charlotte looked bemused by my question and took another sip of her coffee before answering.</p>
<p>“I luckily never have run into any trouble. My father encouraged me to not be restricted by my gender. And my flying instructor doesn’t treat me any differently because I’m a woman.”</p>
<p>“So your father played a significant role in your pursuit of an unconventional career? Am I right in thinking he is for the movement of women’s rights?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. My father has always supported my dreams, and he’s an inspiration to me. He does so much work to help disadvantaged women and girls in the city. So, ultimately I hope to equally be a role model for them.” Charlotte’s eyes lit up when she spoke of her father.</p>
<p>“Ah yes, his charity opened one of the first welfare schools in New York right? Does he have any other plans in the works? Do you have any plans of following in his philanthropic footsteps?” Charlotte’s face looked surprised at my level of research, and pondered her response for a moment.</p>
<p>“In fact he does. But I’ll let him tell you about that himself. For me, I’m focusing on my flying currently, but I definitely have big plans for the future. I want to make a difference and be the voice for the voiceless women out there.”</p>
<p>“To close, do you have anything you’d like to say to the young girls that look up to you?”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing that men can do, that women can’t do. So we must persevere, stay strong, and fight for our voices to be heard.”</p>
<p>“Well said. And that concludes our interview! Thank you so much for your time Miss Harris.” I gently closed my notebook, and began to pack my things into my satchel. I expected Charlotte to excuse herself to attend another one of her commitments, yet she stayed where she sat, asking her maid for tea for two.</p>
<p>“I hope you’re not in a rush to leave Miss Colvin. It’ll be nice to have a little catch up before you go.” Taken aback by her enthusiasm and warmth, I agreed, and felt a little flustered whilst we waited for the tea to be served.</p>
<p>“So, will you be attending the Sky Tower Gala tonight Miss Colvin?”</p>
<p>“Ah, unfortunately I have a lot of work to write up tonight, so I won’t be able to.” Feeling a little more comfortable in Charlotte’s presence, I added. “Also I gave my invite to my colleague since I didn’t think I would be back in New York in time to attend.” I traced the rim of my teacup as I spoke, admiring the intricate hand painted flowers along the edge.</p>
<p>“Well since you’re being so honest with me, truthfully I wasn’t planning on going either.” In Charlotte’s eyes shone a tenderness that warmed my heart. “But seeing as my dad had to take a last minute trip out of town, I’ve had to fill his space.” She sighed, it was the first instance that I’d seen her break her usual sunny disposition. </p>
<p>“Do you not want to go? I imagined it would be great fun Miss Harris.”</p>
<p>“You can call me Charlotte.” A small smile returned to her face. “Besides going to a party alone is no fun at all.” She inched closer. “This is why you can be my date tonight.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translations:</p>
<p>Mahal kita - I love you</p>
<p>Anak - baby</p>
<p>maliit na perlas - our little pearl</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Broken Glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Liz attends a party, and encounters a dark mysterious stranger in the dead of night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I want to start out with a huge apology for the delay in update. I’ve been unwell for a while, so it’s been difficult to keep the momentum. I was trying to write loads in advance so I could upload more regularly, but haven’t made too much headway with it. Hopefully I’ll get back into the swing of things (any encouragement/memes/inspo is greatly appreciated don’t be afraid to hit me up!) I also wanna thank you all for the immense support, and please don’t hesitate to shoot me a message, I love talking about DUTP with yall, and I need to keep my brain inspired.</p><p>Thank you so much to everyone’s love, this is dedicated to all of you who have patiently waited! Love you lots!</p><p> </p><p>(If anyone wants to gimme a hand in editing/proof reading please lemme know! I will be editing previous chapters in the near future! Also means you get first dibs on the chapter before anyone else hehe!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It felt surreal as I was being ushered out of the Harris mansion, with Charlotte eagerly barrelling through the doors. My head was spinning as I tried to comprehend what was happening. As we approached the foyer, I could see out on the drive a chauffeur stood at the ready. I hadn’t been able to get a word in edgeways since accepting Charlotte’s invitation. She had been busy spewing commands left and right to her frantic waitstaff, whilst reassuring me everything would be taken care of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She practically shoved me into the car, as I tried digging my heels in the gravel in protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Harris-!” My glasses had begun to steam up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about a thing, Jerry will sort everything!” She chirped. “Please take Miss Colvin to Sak’s Fifth Avenue, everything has been paid for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stocky, round faced driver nodded in confirmation, bowed abruptly and started the engine of the gleaming black cadillac Charlotte was pushing me into.</span>
</p><p>“Sak’s Fifth Avenue?! Are you crazy?! I don’t belong there!” Only the creme de la creme of New York society could even afford to go to the salons, boutiques and department stores of Fifth Avenue, let alone Sak’s.</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Sydney is a family friend, and he’ll take good care of you.” She squeezed my shaking hands. “It’s my treat, Colvin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Treat or not, you have to let me pay you back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.” She winked cheekily at me, her walnut brown, fox eyes flashing with enthusiasm. Before I could protest anymore, she shut the car door, and I heard her muffled voice chuckle. “Cinderella! You shall go to the ball!” With that I heard the sound of the tires rolling over the gravel of the drive, and off we sped out of the acres of the Harris mansion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>****************************</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>I squirmed in my seat on the way to the gala, painfully aware that each one of my movements could spoil the hours of deft hands that preened me so. Instinctively I went to bite my lips, but had to stop myself from smudging the carefully applied lipstick. Taking out my compact from my clutch, I sighed in relief after seeing I hadn’t completely melted my face off yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As we approached Sky Tower, my heart skipped a beat as I was taken back to when I came across Mr Puzo on the building site not too long ago. My heart wrenched at the memory of him, and a little disappointment settled in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t seen or heard from him, and my chest was almost full to bursting with anticipation of seeing him at the gala. After taking a few moments to compose myself, I graciously thanked Jerry as he opened the door for me, and I stepped out onto the plush red carpet laid out in front of the towering building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I quickly glanced back at my reflection in the car window. The remarkable craftsmanship performed at the salon had not been thwarted by my anxiety, and I was still in disbelief of my glamour. Pearls dangled from my ears, my unruly hair was set into fine S wave curls, and my eyes were glittered, and heavy with false eyelashes. Shimmery champagne silk draped elegantly across my frame, and cinched in at the waist. I was careful not to tread on the sheer length of the gown, as I cautiously tiptoed in strappy gold heels towards the sound of merrymaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spotlights shone and framed the height of the tower, panels of geometric architecture glistened and sparkled, and columns of polished marble were festooned in wreaths of spring flowers. It may not have been as tall as Mr Nino argued back during our interview, but it was almost impossible to see the peak of the tower. As much as the building had been decorated for the event, it’s colossal height still stood imposingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> A crowd of finely dressed attendees milled in the foyer, and I gulped as I headed through the large, gilded doorway with my eyes fixed to the floor. Whilst socialites, magnates and moguls seemed deep in idle chatter, clinking champagne flutes and picking scrupulously at the canapes, I scanned across the sea of strangers for a familiar face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless of the added few inches that my heels gave me, trying to look over the shoulders of the crowd proved futile. I shrunk back into a vacant corner of the foyer, sipping a glass of champagne inconspicuously. As I watched the to and fro of high society in front of me, I jumped once I felt a light tap of my exposed shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Colvin! You look amazing!” Gabby’s delicate, porcelain face beamed at me then twisted in concern as I choked on my drink. “Oh my gosh are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Gabby, I’m just so glad to see you!” I threw my arms around her, embracing her tightly. As I pulled away I gasped at the elegance in which she was dressed.  Gabby’s attire was an indigo gown of satin, that glittered with swarovski crystals as she moved, and elbow high gloves weighed down by jewels on her wrists. Her platinum hair shone almost silver under the chandeliers. She looked like a siren princess amongst the gaudy rabble of the wealthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t expecting to see you till tomorrow! But I’m so glad you made it.” Her violet eyes shone as she spoke. “Truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to having to talk to all these stuffy people.” She pouted sourly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, we’ll stick together.” I linked arms with her, as the crowd began to disperse into the main hall. “We’ll leave Davis to the schmoozing.” We giggled as I looked about for his debonair smile, and the flashing of his pearly whites sure to make any gentle woman swoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost him ages ago to a torrent of reporters, and photographers. They all wanted to get a piece of New York’s playboy, and his deeds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And misdeeds.” I joked, and we giggled like schoolgirls as we found our table reserved for Gotham Times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the hall spanned many a finely dressed table, glass vases of orchids and lilies bloomed in the center, surrounded by confusing set ups of silverware, and fancy folded napkins. From the ceiling hung chandeliers dripping in jewels, the light of candles reflecting off of them as the shapes danced across the room. The room was dimly lit despite the hundreds of candles, and I squinted to see if I could make out the face or figure of Mr. Puzo. Countless impeccably dressed men glanced back in my direction as I scanned the room, but it was to no avail. I knew I would recognise him amongst the swath of people, his towering, and striking presence I could never miss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking for someone?” asked Gabby coyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just checking who was in attendance for tomorrow’s article.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm, and who’s building is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabby, that has nothing to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! That’s right. Puzo Industries if I’m not mistaken?” She smirked devilishly. “Should I go and ask an acquaintance if he’s here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If who’s here?” A booming voice echoed behind me. There stood Davis, his tawny hair smartly slicked back, wearing the sharpest, tailored tuxedo in the room. On his lapel he wore a sickeningly large crystal rose, laden with diamonds. He bowed and took my hand, and gave it a soft peck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Gabby opened her mouth, I interjected. “Charlotte! If Miss Harris has arrived yet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes.” Davis took his seat in the middle of Gabby and I. “She was out the front doing press on her father’s behalf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, of course.” I muttered relieved at being able to stop Gabby in her tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well Elizabeth, look at you!” I spun around to see Charlotte striding towards our table, her gown swishing with her strut. I stood up abruptly to greet her, unsure how one does in such situations. She took me in her arms and spun me around. “Am I your fairy god-date or what? Look at you! Prettier than a magnolia in May!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-miss Harris! I mean Charlotte!” A blush crept onto my cheeks as I looked at her, cowering under her touch. She was dressed in a halter neck, tight fitting dress, the shade a deep bordeaux , that clung flatteringly across her body. Every inch of her was adorned in diamonds, from her belt, the buckles on her shoes, to her wrists. Her russet hair was pinned neatly in deep waves, and her doll like lips were painted an equally deep red as her dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much.” I mumbled shyly, overwhelmed with the compliments. Desperate to get the attention off of me, I diverted her attention to the others. “Let me introduce you to my colleagues, this is Edmund Dav-.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Davis suavely kissed her hand and interrupted. “My dear Charlotte, how are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Busy as usual. It’s nice to see that the Depression didn’t dampen your spirit eh, Eddie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As they say in the papers, I’m the resourceful sort. A wily fox or so they called me.” They both chuckled between themselves like old schoolmates. I had no idea they knew each other, yet it began to dawn on me due to their familial wealth, it was a given they must have rubbed shoulders on more than one occasion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is Gabby! Doesn’t she just look divine?” I piped up, eagerly pushing Gabby towards Charlotte to introduce herself. Gabby’s face turned almost beet red, and she curtsied politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-miss H-Harris… it’s an honour to meet you…” she hid behind her platinum bobbed hair, her sparkling sapphire earrings swaying as she shook with embarrassment. Gabby struggled to meet Charlotte’s eyes, which was so unlike her. She was the face of the office as secretary, speaking to all manners of important people. Seeing her so timid was a shock to the system. Charlotte reached down and took her gloved hand in hers, and kissed it tenderly whilst looking up at her, hiding amongst her silvery tendrils.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pleasure is all mine… Miss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Martine. Gabrielle Martine.” She replied meekly, her voice barely audible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Charlotte. If I can call you Gabrielle?” Charlotte’s tone was velvety, and full of ardour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yes! Of course!” Gabby’s usual composure was stilted as she interacted with Charlotte. All Davis and I could do was to watch in awe, as we inevitably switched dates for the night. Gabby and Charlotte were stuck to the hip the whole evening. Whilst I’d managed to get a few dances with Charlotte as her date, Gabby soon eclipsed me as her dance partner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Davis and I waltzed together, half for the fun of it, and also as an attempt to eavesdrop on what looked like sweetless nothings being whispered between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving up on our reconnaissance mission, we watched from our table as affection seemed to blossom between the two. Their dresses of red and blue almost became a deep purple as they spun about the dance floor, twirling in each other’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After we watched them retreat to the punch bowl, Davis and I talked business over several glasses of champagne at our table. He was so excited for the interview with Charlotte to be printed, and told me he had another big interview in the works. To celebrate, buckets of bubbly were being ferried to our table in the masses. Before long, I wasn’t really sure what we were talking about, and found myself resting against his shoulder as intoxication kicked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Liz. You look like you need to get some fresh air.” He rubbed my shoulders trying to rouse me from my tipsy stupor. After struggling to get me up from my seat, he covered my bare shoulders with his tuxedo jacket. I nodded and muttered a gentle “okay”, as I took his hand following him through the foyer, and towards the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The foyer was eerily empty, no sound save for the murmur from the main hall, and Davis’ and I’s footsteps on the polished marble floors. The quiet was discomforting, so I inched closer to Davis, feeling safe in his vicinity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz, we’ve got to get you to slow down on drinking. I know Prohibition is over and all, but damn, you don’t have to make up for the years you missed!” He laughed heartily, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to stop me from shivering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-well, maybe youuu should stop! You’re the face of the paper, and you can’t be seen in the company of a floozy like me!” I inched closer to his face. “You’re the big shot of the city, just being associated with the likes of me… a girl of my… background.” I trailed off, feeling ashamed and glum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A girl from a farm? That’s hardly scandalous, my dear.” Davis wore a sympathetic smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No… you know what I mean… my family.” Davis’ eyes turned serious, and he took me by the shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz, you know I would never put you at risk like that. With how things are on the West Coast… you’re safe here with me. I would never let your family come to harm.” His tone was soft, and quiet lest someone hear my confession. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Davis’ reputation could potentially be in tatters considering the “yellow peril” that had swept the nation. Things had improved in comparison to a few years ago, yet the threat always remained. Most of the time people didn’t seem to pick up on my heritage, as my father was white, people assumed I just looked “exotic” or “unusual”. And the name Elizabeth Colvin never raised any suspicion. It had made me uneasy when Davis came to the ranch, I wasn’t entirely sure if he knew, or how he would react. Yet his acceptance of my family, regardless of my drunkenness, made my eyes well up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Davis… I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Edmund! So glad I caught you!” A short, moustached man came striding over to us, spouting a torrent of words excitedly. Thrown off by the change in mood, I looked at them confused when Davis turned back to me. The elevator doors dinged and opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll meet you up there Liz. I’ve got some things to iron out.” He said straightening out his bowtie, and shirt. He leaned over and pecked my cheek. “We can finish where we left off. I won’t be long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded silently, as he followed the animated gentleman back to the main hall. As the elevator doors shut I heard loud exclamations of revelry between Davis and whomever the VIP he was securing a deal with. Approaching the top floor, I clutched at his jacket about my shoulders to stay warm. Although spring had come around, the night air still held a chill. A dimly lit corridor led to a large balcony area that overlooked the competing skyscrapers, and the glaring lights of the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was taken aback by the view. New York twinkled as if it were the night sky, dotted with innumerable stars flickering in the darkness. I breathed in, taking in all the glitz, glamour and grit of the densely populated metropolis below. I began to sober up in the shadows and the coolness of the night air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling a safe distance from the festivities, and curious faces, I sighed forlornly. I’d hoped to at least get a glimpse of Mr. Puzo tonight, it was one of his properties after all. I hadn’t even seen any of his men that I knew of, and as much as I knew he was probably one of the busiest men in the city, I still felt a pang of sadness of his absence. Although I couldn’t imagine him enjoying the brouhaha of the New York rich and powerful. He seemed reserved, much preferring to shrink back into the shadows, away from the fuss and excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking back to our last meeting, he had intended to make some time for a follow up. It had only been a few days, but I was itching to hear his voice, husky and laced with mystery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I continued to ponder whether I should call him,  when from behind I heard a lighter being struck, and a deep inhale, followed by several tuts. I hadn’t heard anyone come up, yet Davis, the prankster that he was, I wouldn’t put it past him to make me jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very funny Davis! Come out of there you scallywag!” I shouted to the darkness shrouding the balcony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response there responded a raspy laugh. It didn’t sound like Davis at all. Maybe someone was already out on the roof and I hadn’t noticed. Flustered, and filled with indignation at the lack of a verbal reply, I began to call out again when the voice interrupted me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin, Miss Colvin. You sure are a hard woman to find.” Their words were slurred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you? Who’s there?!” I shouted back, unable to locate the direction the voice came from. I squinted, attempting to see the identity that skulked in the dark. All I could make out was the faint glow of embers at the end of a cigar. The voice continued, becoming more gruff and agitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never know when to quit, little mouse.” With one more large inhale, the cigar was thrown to the floor, and stomped out. Shaking with fear, unsure whether to venture forward, I dug my nails into the fabric of Davis’ jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?! Answer me!” My voice squeaked out, revealing the trepidation that trembled in my throat. Heavy, shuffling footsteps came towards me, and I stumbled back into the railings of the roof. A sharp wind blustered by, serving a reminder of the drop that lingered behind me.</span>
  
  <span>A cold sweat trickled down my back, as I clung to the railings. A hunched figure began to cme into view, reeking of booze and tobacco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t have forgotten about me already? After all your digging.” A sinister laugh erupted from their lips, hoarse and gravelly. His teeth glistened as his mouth formed a crooked smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-Rossi?!” He looked like a shell of the man I’d met just weeks prior. He wore a tattered coat, with his shirt unbuttoned, so much so that wiry silver and black chest hair peeked out. His tie was undone, and suspenders swayed lazy around his waist. He swaggered towards me, appearing heavily intoxicated, or as if he hadn’t slept in days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem to have friends in high… and low places, Miss Colvin.” He chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” I stammered, trying to discreetly feel for the revolver in my purse. I still hadn’t had the chance to practice with it, so I foolishly hoped he would just be here to talk. My cynicism overshadowed my naivety, there was no way he would be hiding out here just to talk. Isolated from everyone downstairs, this was his perfect opportunity. I was eager to talk my way out as much as I could, until Davis came for me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My men told me you were under Puzo’s protection. So in other words you’re untouchable.” He snickered. “He’s on the rise, not a wiseguy to be trifled with so I’ve heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Summoning what little courage I had, I asked, “What do you want with me? I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to congratulate me on my acquaintance with Mr. Puzo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got spunk for a broad all alone with the infamous Rio Rossi.” As he said his name, he did a mock bow, stumbling slightly at his attempt at dramatics. After regaining his balance, he shambled towards me, the stench of alcohol filling the space between us. Through his teeth he snarled, “I could snap your neck if I wanted to. With those dainty little pearls around your neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inhaled deeply, as if basking in some unknown triumph. “Takes me back to my first job.” He laughed, and then began to splutter, droplets of his spit hitting my face. He took a look at my defiant expression, and his signature frown returned to his sullen face. “You must have questions. I’m here to answer them. For one night only.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Why would you tell me anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got nothing else to lose…” His voice was quiet, and began to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. How do you know my parents? How did you have that photograph?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was all over the news back in the day. How could I not know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All over the news? What do you mean? My parents died in a car crash… back in Louisiana… how would you know of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rossi grunted. “Hmph, surely you don’t believe that. You’re just like your father, poking your nose in where it shouldn’t be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was murdered?” There was no answer, save for the sound of him lighting up another cigar. “Then what about my mother?”</span>
</p><p>“Ah, that was a shame. They used to say the lights of Crescent City were snuffed out the day she died.” His eyes cast a far off look, glazed with nostalgia, maybe even regret.</p><p>
  <span>“If you know what happened to them, why don’t you just tell me?” I began to grow tired of his half answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have. You’re the reporter, use that big ol’ brain of yours to put two and two together.” His tone turned terse as he puffed his cigar. “Look Colvin, do you know what omerta means? I’m bending the rules by giving you hints here and there, but I’m not about to betray the oath I took.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Walter Taylor, you killed him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Amy? What happened to Amy? Why did you take Jessica’s things from Metro?” I stepped closer to him, my nose filled with the smell of the unhinged alcoholic before me. “Tell me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’ll bring them to their knees.” He practically mumbled, his glazed eyes looked distant, the faint lights of the city reflecting in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems we’re all out of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp click rang out in the brief silence between us, He didn’t flinch when two shadows emerged seemingly from nowhere, and he seemed unbothered by the cold metal of a revolver being pressed to the back of his head. It was as if he knew it was coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rossi.” A low voice growled. Without a shred of concern of the predicament he was in, Rossi sighed and put out his cigar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old sins have long shadows, Miss Colvin.” His heavy eyes met mine, his stare cold and full of resolve. “<em>Fortuna i forti aiuta, e i timidi rifiuta</em>.” I noticed a tiny glimmer of hope in his eyes as we exchanged glances, though it was quickly dashed by reality setting in before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shorter one of the pair grappled and seized Rossi, shoving him into the elevator at the end of the corridor. I stood there stunned, nervous to make a sudden move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A spirited laugh surfaced from the man in the shadows, as he walked towards me, cigarette poised in the crook of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Colvin, what did the Boss tell you about staying out of trouble?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nino!” I rushed over to him, and barrelled into his chest. “God, am I relieved to see you, I thought I was heading for the rocks!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were going toe to toe with Rio Rossi, don’t gimme that!” He gently removed my arms wrapped around him, his face blushing from what I could see of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I wasn’t afraid of him! I was afraid of being caught up in yet another shoot out!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another- my god, Miss Colvin, quite the thrillseeker aren’t you.” He playfully flicked my forehead. “Rio Rossi used to be Juliano Senior’s right hand man, I think you should exercise a little caution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Rossi, he said something about having nothing else to lose. Do you know anything about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz! Sorry I kept you waiting!” Through the doorway came Davis, marching over to where Nino and I stood. “Ah! Mr Ricci, great to see you! Enjoying the party? Hadn’t managed to bump into you downstairs!” Davis gave him a friendly pat on the back and Nino looked out of sorts at the gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I arrived late, had some last minute things to go over. I’m not one for dancing so I just thought to come by for a drink or two.” I knew that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He had materialised almost out of thin air to my rescue, ready to shoot a man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for keeping me company, I would have died of boredom up here waiting for this smooth talker to tear himself away from the attention.” I nudged Davis in the ribs. “It’s rude to keep a lady waiting. You should take some lessons from Mr. Ricci. Quite the gent!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I noticed Nino check his pocket watch and shuffle around, looking anxious to follow up on Rossi’s whereabouts. “But I’ve taken up enough of your time Mr. Ricci. It was lovely catching up with you, hopefully we can talk more when there’s less on your plate.” By the look on Nino’s face, he had caught my drift, and was thankful for the way out I’d given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think nothing of it, Miss Colvin. Mr. Puzo sends his regards.” In his curt, professional voice, Nino tipped his hat, nodded to Davis and disappeared out of sight as mysteriously as he appeared.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translation</p><p> </p><p>Fortuna i forti aiuta, e i timidi rifiuta - fortune favours the bold (Italian)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dark Skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Liz senses something amiss, and delves into the archives to satiate her curiosity.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Here are the papers from the archives you asked for Liz.”</p><p>White clumsily placed the stack of old newspapers atop my desk, trying to get them to balance. Taking them from his clammy hands, I replied “You’re gonna smudge the ink at this rate, I’ve got ‘em don’t worry!”</p><p>His freckled cheeks turned pink, and he scurried back from my desk, not before stopping in his tracks and double taking. “Hey, you’ve been like a ghost Liz, where have you been the last week? It’s been quiet here without you.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snarled.</p><p>“No-! Not like that, it’s just been missing it’s spark in the office!” He spluttered, fiddling nervously with his tie.</p><p>“I’m just messing with you, White! Relax!” I leaned back in my chair, happy to feel the worn leather of my chair beneath me, basking in the bustle of the office. “Well I literally got back from home Monday, interviewed Miss Harris and the Gala on Tuesday. Wednesday, Davis bagged me that Metro interview with Councilman Harris, can you believe it?”</p><p>I’d been running on adrenaline and infinite cups of coffee the past few days, so inevitably exhaustion had begun to wear me down. </p><p>“Metropolitan Hospital? D-did you see…” White looked left and right, then whispered “The J-Jazz Killer, or the Pearl Snatcher? He’s got all kinda names tied to his heinous crimes!”</p><p>“Well, as much as Councilman Harris boasted about his achievements in his rehabilitation, no.” I grumbled. “He’s strictly off limits. For now.” A smile formed on my lips.</p><p>“Oh no, I know that smile. Mr. Kane won’t budge, he doesn’t do sensationalism!” White protested.</p><p>“It’s not sensationalist if it’s true. Besides, there’s two sides to every story, and I’m sure he has quite the story to tell.”</p><p>“Liz, he’s a lunatic. A lunatic murderer! If you step within three feet of his cell, he’ll have you done in for sure. It’ll be your name in the obituaries!” </p><p>“Liz! Mr. Kane is free now.” Gabby called over to me from her desk, twiddling the phone cord playfully around her fingers.</p><p>“Thanks!” I stood up, and placed a comforting hand on White’s shaking shoulders. “Don’t worry so much White. It’ll take more than some D-list murderer to do me in.”</p><p> </p><p>*********************</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a no, Colvin.” Mr Kane sat forward in his chair, hands massaging his temples.</p><p>“But why not?”</p><p>“I told you, it’s old news. Just let sleeping dogs lie.” He sighed, and took a cigar from a weathered box on his desk. “With the way the papers’ been performing, why sully it with speculative nonsense?”</p><p>I was taken aback by his defensiveness. He’d been in high spirits the past week, so I was confused by his steadfastness.</p><p>“And don’t even think about sneaking into Metropolitan Hospital again. Have some professional integrity, Colvin. You’re not at The Sun News anymore.”</p><p>His harsh words took me by surprise, and bruised my ego. As unscrupulous as my tactics had been previously, I was still a reporter, a morally hazy profession at that. I hadn’t even pulled any stunts as of late that would be considered remotely scandalous. On top of that, my articles were boosting the upcoming election ratings for Councilman Harris. </p><p>I was rendered speechless, unable to even come up with a justification to get an interview with The Pearl Snatcher. I stood there, my eyes hot with indignance, fixed to the carpet, like a child scolded. Seeming tired of my presence, Mr Kane waved me out, puffing on his cigar as he filtered through the papers on his desk.</p><p>Shutting the door behind me, I felt a dark cloud form over my head. Mr. Kane had always said he had faith in me, and I had real talent. Why would he say I lacked integrity?</p><p>I felt desperate to brush aside his comments when I remembered the papers White had acquired for me. Rejuvenated with new focus, I hurried over, and began to pour over the old articles on Gotham Charity School.</p><p>Charlotte had mentioned her father’s history of philanthropy, and these articles only further proved the extent of his reach across the city.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <b> New York City’s first welfare school opened today. Councilman Harris gives speech at Gotham Charity School’s opening ceremony. </b> </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <b> Gotham Charity School supports education for girls: We fight for women’s rights to education. </b> </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>‘We take in girls from all walks of life. They all deserve access to education, so we have a multitude of programs to accommodate them.” - Steve Harris.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Whilst Steve Harris was the figurehead of the reopening of the institute, it was previously an orphanage for young women, that provided basic education. Seeing a lack of facilities, and the potential to provide for the immigrants of New York, Steve Harris and his charity, TCA, funded the expansion of the premises. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>It now boasts large grounds, capable of accommodating a larger quantity of young women. The principle of the school states “Councilman Harris was passionate about outstretching our arms to provide for not just the less fortunate in our city, but across states and to be a safe haven for wayward girls who have nowhere to call home.”</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>The ethos of Gotham Charity School is to create a supportive, empowering environment for young ladies, and give them the tools they need to provide for themselves and their families. From their education, they are offered work experience, and once completed, employment is allocated to them, allowing them independence and a chance to put their skills to use.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>My eyes flickered to a cramped corner of another newspaper, ‘Missing Persons’.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Have you seen her? Lucy Schidmt, lost on her way home from school on 25th March. Last seen at the entrance of Gotham Charity School.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>There was no photograph included, the notice crammed at the back of the paper. I marked down as much information as possible, as well as the name Lucy Schidmt, hoping I’d be able to track down any more information regarding her disappearance.</p><p>I felt a pang of self reproach at my articles heralding Harris’ good deeds to the community, his hefty donations, and involvement in the improvements of Metropolitan Hospital. During our interview he seemed remorseful for the staff’s prior negligence, shifting any personal responsibility to their incompetence. Filled with vigour, he proudly proclaimed he would do everything in his power to improve the lives of all his constituents, regardless of background. After all, this is why he was ever the popular politician, he always stood up for the underdog, and New York seemed to resonate with his passion.</p><p>My articles were only proving to boost his popularity, and I wondered if I was merely a pawn in a complex political machine. My thoughts left me stewing at my desk, feeling powerless and meek.</p><p>But as if by some divine intervention, the shrill ring of my phone expelled me from my moral and existential crisis.</p><p>“Elizabeth Colvin, Feature Editor of Gotham Times speaking.”</p><p>“Ah, Miss Colvin, it’s Diane Boseman.”</p><p>“Prosecutor Boseman! It’s been a while, how are you?”</p><p>“It has been. I actually wanted to apologise, as my diary has been jam packed the last fortnight. We never got to follow through with our meeting.”</p><p>“Oh! Not to worry! It’s been a little crazy on my end too, but I’m so happy to hear from you.” The sound of her assured voice comforted me. She was in the midst of an investigation of cracking down on the corruption that pulsed through New York, yet she seemed utterly unruffled at the momentous task. That level of composure, poise and tact was something to aspire to.</p><p>“Well, Miss Colvin, my secretary Annie informed me that Monday afternoon should be free.”</p><p>“Great! Monday is perfect. I look forward to seeing you then.”</p><p>“Likewise, Miss Colvin. Good day.”</p><p> </p><p>**************************</p><p>“Lunch time!”</p><p>Concerned by my ineptitude to function like a responsible adult (by that, meaning eating regular meals and sleeping if at all), Gabby and Davis had proposed that I must sit down away from my work for lunch hour. It felt more of an involuntary intervention, yet I appreciated that they were looking out for me, despite my outward protests. Davis had offered his large desk as our meeting spot, excited to have ‘two lovely ladies’ joining him for refreshments.</p><p>Gabby shimmied excitedly, arms full of unidentifiable parcels, and placed them gently in front of us. “I made us sandwiches!” Gabby sat herself down next to Davis, and eagerly untied the neatly tied bundles, to reveal her domestic prowess.</p><p>“Aren’t you such a darling? House wife material right here. Thanks Gabs!” I gently squeezed her cheek affectionately, and she beamed with joy. We sat in momentary silence, preoccupied by Gabby’s culinary talent and savouring every bite.</p><p>As much as Mr. Kane’s scolding had soured my mood earlier, this brief moment of respite among my two best friends lifted my spirits.</p><p>Our munching was interrupted by a booming, yet muffled voice. “Delivery for Miss Martine!”</p><p>“Oh!” Gabby exclaimed, mouth full while she trotted over to open the door, whilst Davis and I exchanged glances. As she opened the office door, there was no sight of the courier as they were completely obstructed by countless buds and petals. “My! They are beautiful!” Gabby almost toppled whilst trying to maneuver the bouquet from the courier. From her delicate arms spilled innumerous lilies, roses and tulips, filling the drab office with a honeyed, floral aroma, and an explosion of colour.</p><p>Davis and I shot up from our seats to help her traverse through the maze of desks, whilst attempting to look for anything that could contain the brimming foliage. Gabby was content for the moment to have them on her lap as she admired them, gasping when she found a note card tucked into the neatly tied bow holding the stems together.</p><p>“This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when we next meet....” Gabby’s voice was breathless, barely a whisper when she read the sender’s name. “Miss Charlotte Harris.” Her cheeks were flushed, as she slumped back into her seat lovelorn.</p><p>“I should have known!” Davis cried out, dusting off an antiquated vase from the store room and placing it down. “”They way you two were going on at the Gala-”</p><p>“Oh, Mr. Davis, you mustn’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” Gabby pleaded. “‘It’s shameful of me to receive such a gift, it isn’t proper…”</p><p>“Oh psh, Gabby!” Davis nudged her crestfallen shoulders. “Times are changing. Your secret is safe with us.” He gave me an affirmative nod, and I responded in kind, whilst wrapping my arms around her, resting my chin in the crook of her neck.</p><p>I spoke softly to her. “Didn’t you tell me that we can’t help who we fall in love with?” I lifted up her chin, cupping her warm cheeks. “You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to enjoy every moment of joy life gives you.” Gabby’s eyes filled with tears as she rested her face against my hands.</p><p>Her voice trembled. “You see, I’ve never felt this way before. It’s so peculiar.” She put a shaking hand to her chest. “I thought I had the case of the vapours, the way my heart has been going on.”</p><p>“So when are you going to see her again?” I asked, my tone turning more teasing.</p><p>“”I-I don’t know. She’s a busy woman, I hadn’t thought to ask.”</p><p>“Come on, you’ve got to make a move! Ask her for a drink!” Davis chimed in, encircling us in his warm, strong arms.</p><p>“Or even just a stroll through Central Park?” I added, giving her a little shake as she looked so uneasy at the idea of being the one to initiate their date.</p><p>“I’ve got it!” Gabby shot up out of her seat.  “Madame Aurelie, she’ll have the answers I’m looking for!” </p><p> </p><p>*****************************</p><p> </p><p>Davis looked at us incredulously as we jumped back into his convertible. Gabby had begged for him to take us to this spot in Queens, a Cajun restaurant that she frequented to get her fortunes told. The city had been cracking down on tea reading parlours, so this spot was tucked away, with fortunes only being told to those who could pay up. </p><p>Gabby chirped happily as Davis drove us both back home. The results of her tarot card reading had pleased her to no end, and filled her with the boldness she needed to ask Charlotte out on a date. </p><p>She excitedly planned with Davis, certain that the results of her reading meant they should go to the botanical gardens. Davis and I glanced at one another skeptically as she tried to convince us she couldn’t argue with the cosmos and it’s plans for her love life. We were sure that she just needed that extra justification, and she spent the duration of the drive, more convincing herself of her plan than us. But we humoured her, relieved that she’d overcome the bashful person she was hours prior.</p><p>I glanced out the window, as we drove through streets of large townhouses and tree lined roads, and thought back to what cards had been dealt to me.</p><p> </p><p>**********************</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “This card represents you now. Strength. You have great determination and willpower. People may not see this inner strength you carry, underestimating the power within you. You must persevere against the odds, Miss.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The next card is flipped over. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “This card represents someone of significance in your life. The Hierophant. It seems to tell me this person is a mentor figure, ready to impart wisdom of his way of life to you. This person is a kindred spirit, yet he is a man of convention, it may take a while for him to open up.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gabby giggled and elbowed me. Ignoring her, I watched Madame Aurelie’s hand reveal the next card. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “This card represents what to expect in the near future.... Death.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gabby gasped dramatically, clinging to my sleeve. I gulped, unsure what to make of the card depicting the reaper with his scythe. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “All things must come to an end. But with endings comes change. You will undergo a transformation. Many of us struggle to let go of the past, but you must set your sights towards the future.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I nodded silently, comforted by her words. The last card makes Gabby gasp even more audibly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “T-The-” She stuttered, her trembling hands covering her mouth.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “The Devil. This represents what may come to pass in the more distant future. You may be shackled to a world of temptation and shadows. But seeing that Strength represents you, is promising. You must carry that strength with you through these trials, so that you aren’t swallowed up by the darkness.” </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A wholesome chapter! I love writing Davis and Gabby, their friendship with Liz warms my heart and they are both precious cinnamon rolls that we all must protect with our whole beings. </p><p>This chapter is a bit more of a filler, but don't worry, I won't starve you from our Vitto for much longer hehe!</p><p>Also if anyone would like to see art of any scenes of this fic, please hit me up! I love drawing GM stuff, and I'm literally always open to requests so feel free if you'd like me to doodle!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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